


To Tyrants

by toque



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Death Watch (Star Wars), M/M, Political Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24004168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toque/pseuds/toque
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi's been on a lot of missions as a Jedi, and even as a Senior Padawan, he's pretty sure he's seen everything. He's still not prepared to get mixed up with Death Watch on what should be a routine mission.artist:writehandman
Relationships: Boba Fett & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 82
Kudos: 1351
Collections: Jedi Journals, Star Wars Big Bang 2020, Suggested Good Reads





	To Tyrants

**Author's Note:**

> everyone! [writehandman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writehandman/pseuds/writehandman) did all the fantastic art for this fic.
> 
> hoo boy. y'all, this was hard. i mixed up some ages to make this work better, so here's a quick guide; Jango Fett - 29  
> Obi-Wan Kenobi - 21

A harsh push sent Obi-Wan stumbling, and he was barely able to catch himself from falling to his knees. The two pirates behind him laughed and Obi-Wan tried to take a step away from them, but one snagged the chain hobbling his feet together, sending him tumbling. With hands bound tightly together, he couldn’t catch himself, and he hit the floor with a muffled grunt. 

At least the gag kept him from biting his tongue off.

“Don’t bother getting back up, _jetii_.”

Obi-Wan tried to determine where the sound was coming from, but the blindfold covering his eyes was thick enough to prevent him from seeing even the slightest shadow of movement. The Force was much more reliable, and though he hadn’t heard footsteps approaching, he could feel that more beings had come to see what the noise was.

“Urkuz, what’s the meaning of this?” A new voice rang out, hard and angry. It was accompanied by the oddest Force presence Obi-Wan had ever felt, but he didn’t have time to search out the source.

“Su cuy'gar ‘alor! The _jetii_ were starting to get too close,” the nearest voice, Urkuz, explained. Obi-Wan startled. Mandalorians? His mission had been about kidnapped children, and it didn’t fit the culture. What had he stumbled into?

“So you _kidnapped_ one? That will only bring the rest of the nest down on our heads!”

“Don’t worry Tor, we swapped ships enough that no one would be able to find us, even if they tried.”

Their leader didn’t sound very impressed. “And the Force? That’s a Padawan braid. I don’t see anything that would stop it from calling for its Master.”

Obi-Wan’s second captor spoke up. “We couldn’t be sure if we were gonna get ripped off on cuffs, it’s not like _we_ could tell if they’re working or not. And we couldn’t exactly advertise we needed them either, ‘lek?”

“None of that fills me with confidence, Des. Tell me why it's worth the effort to keep him alive.” The mystery leader’s voice was dry, but there was an edge of danger to it. Des must have picked up on it, because she tried to reassure him.

“See that collar? That’s all the insurance that we need.” The tip of her boot nudged Obi-Wan’s neck and he snarled, lashing out.

Urkuz laughed. “Still got some fight, huh?”

Obi-Wan bared his teeth past the gag before pain overtook his thinking. The sharp shock of the electric collar was not unfamiliar. He screamed, twitching uncontrollably on the deck, and this time, all the beings surrounding him laughed. 

When the shocks faded he stretched his awareness out into the Force, feeling for Qui-Gon. But the bond was silent, as it had been for the past few cycles. He couldn’t rely on his bond with his Master. Qui-Gon’s presence had gone silent sometime around what he’d estimated to be the third cycle onboard the bounty hunters’ ship, unable to bridge the gap between systems.

Still, above him, Des continued, "And this particular _jetii_ was on Mandalore, oh, a couple years ago?"

"Is that so?"

"Recognized him after we found him snooping around. He was one of the _jetii_ that played bodyguard for Kryze."

Although he knew the Mandalorians were right next to him, the leader’s words seemed to come from a great distance, almost like he was underwater. “Alright, I’m convinced. Why don’t you go make sure that stays on now.”

“‘Lek.” Rough hands grabbed his arms and pulled him along what he was now certain was the deck of a ship.

“Make sure to keep an eye on him,” the leader called after them.

“Sure thing,” Des replied.

The two Mandalorians holding him didn’t even let him walk on his own. He was dragged into what felt like a small room from the way the sound carried and forced to his knees.

“Hold him still.”

The hand on his left shoulder tightened, and Obi-Wan jerked in response, but Urkuz only clamped down harder. “Believe me, _jetii_ , you’d regret twitching.”

Something that sounded like a lighter sparking came from somewhere in the room and Obi-Wan froze. Surely—

Heat bloomed near his face and he exhaled shakily. At first, Des trailed it down his face, only the faintest touch of warmth on his skin. The closer to his neck it came the more Obi-Wan had to focus on staying still. He could feel the collar grow hotter as Des melted the locking mechanism. She held the torch close enough he could feel his skin burning and he bit down hard on the gag to prevent the scream that was building in his throat from erupting. His vision whited out behind the blindfold from the agony, but he didn’t give her any reaction.

Des scoffed, apparently dissatisfied, and cut the flame. “Guess they do teach you something in that order of yours after all.”

If the cuffs were gone, he could have shown her exactly what the Jedi taught him.

Once Des had taken her place on his other side, they pulled him to his feet and he was dragged from the room, neck still burning. His thoughts swam and he could barely tell which way was up.

Obi-Wan tried to memorize the layout of the ship as he was dragged through it, but all he could tell was that it was large. It was likely he’d be dumped in some cargo bay, or if he was unlucky, an actual holding cell.

The soft murmur of voices when they stepped through yet another door wasn’t what he was expecting. They all fell silent as Urkuz led him and Des into...wherever they were. The Force was brighter here, a dozen minds brimming with curiosity and fear.

“ _Osik_ , all full,” Urkuz swore, and Obi-Wan wondered what he meant for a moment before Des spoke up.

“Just throw him in the nearest one.”

Urkuz’s hand left Obi-Wan’s arm and he heard the sound of a ray shield deactivating. Des pushed him hard, and he tripped his way forwards. He whirled around when he heard the shielding go back up, wincing at the pull on his neck. That was one restraint he wouldn’t be able to take off without help.

Then the collar went off. He jerked instinctively, muscles tensing. His jaw clenched in an effort not to scream and he felt his teeth slice into his cheek again.

“Des, you do that?”

“Nope.”

A brief silence and then the collar went off again, and Obi-Wan could only taste blood. “That one was me.”

He must have come to the same conclusion as the pirates because Des and Urkuz laughed behind him. “Well, didn’t expect that to happen when we welded it. Hope you last long enough to make it to our destination, _jetii_.” 

Obi-Wan would have snarled but something moved by his feet and he tried to reach out only for a small hand to slap his arms away.

“What’s the big idea?” The sound of a small child trying to sound older made Obi-Wan’s lips twitch unconsciously. More movement, and he tried to stay as still as possible.

Apparently he’d found the slaving ring after all.

Urkuz taunted the child through the shield. “You afraid of the big bad _jetii,_ Boba? I thought you were mandokar. Look, he’s about as dangerous as you are right now. If you’re so worried, why not tell us where your _buir_ is? Maybe he can protect you from the _aruetiise._ ”

Something sizzled against the ray shield and Obi-Wan guessed that the kid, Boba, had thrown something at it. 

“ _Jetii_ , I think you know the consequences of trying to escape.” There was an undercurrent to the words that made Obi-Wan pay attention. _Of course they’d threaten the children,_ he thought tiredly to himself. He didn’t give any indication that he was listening, but the door hissed and he heard their captors leave, laughing.

As soon as the door closed with a solid-sounding _whumph_ , exhaustion and pain finally caught up to him and Obi-Wan couldn’t help it when he sank to his knees, head bowed. The collar caught at his throat and _burned_ when he moved as it shocked him again. His neck and back felt like one big area of pain and memories of Bandomeer threatened to overwhelm him but he forced them down, taking several deep breaths.

He was broken out of his self-pity when a finger poked him in the forehead.

“Hey, _jetii_. _Jetii_. Are you _crying? Osik.”_ The boy said something in rapid Mando’a that Obi-Wan didn’t catch, and soon small hands were working on the knots holding the blindfold and gag in place.

Intelligent dark brown eyes were the first thing Obi-Wan saw. The kid was probably about twelve standard, human, with warm light brown skin and dark hair that curled down to his shoulders. He was wearing casual clothes, and Obi-Wan saw they were dirty enough that the boy had likely put up a fight before getting captured.

Shocked by how young he was, Obi-Wan blurted, “Should someone your age really know that sort of language?” His throat was hoarse from all the screams that had been pulled from him. He swallowed a few times to soften his voice.

“What other sort of language should I use? I’ll swear at those _tahla’ada besom_ if I feel like it.”

Laughing hurt enough to make his vision flash white, but the surprised bark Obi-Wan let out felt good anyway. “They called you Boba, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Obi-Wan. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

The boy ignored his apology to give him a critical once-over, asking, “Are you really a Jedi?”

“Yes, but I’m only a Padawan. A student,” he explained when Boba stiffened.

“My _buir_ said not to trust you.”

Obi-Wan nodded carefully. It didn’t stop the collar from going off again and he froze, trying not to lash out. When the electricity stopped he took a deep breath, trying to find his previous train of thought.

The Mandalorian Clan Wars were still raging, and any Mandalorian worth their blasters would be wary of the Jedi whose meddling had accidentally started it after the unmitigated disaster at Galidraan. “I understand. But right now, we are in the same position. I promise I will do my best to get you back to your _buir,_ ” he said solemnly.

Boba nodded, but didn’t move from where he stood, blocking the other children from Obi-Wan’s gaze.

Without moving his head, there was only so much Obi-Wan could see in the cell. He shuffled around carefully on his knees to make up for the lack of movement in his neck. It was all dark grey durasteel, with a small refresher set on one of the walls. 

Through the ray shield he could see another cell filled with children across the hallway, and he had to take a moment to release his anger into the Force.

It was getting hard to keep his eyes open as the adrenaline from the past few days left his system. He thought he should give the children a warning before he passed out, however, so quietly he said, “Boba.”

The kid stopped pretending he wasn’t still watching Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye and came closer. “Yeah?”

Obi-Wan swallowed painfully. “I’m going to be unresponsive for a while. If they come back, I need you to shake me really hard.”

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admitted. “They roughed me up pretty good. I’m going to use the Force to try to heal myself.”

“You can do that?” Boba’s eyes were wide with surprise.

“Yes, but it takes a lot of concentration. I can’t defend myself while I’m doing it, so I’d appreciate it if you let me know if anyone comes in.”

Boba nodded sharply. “Okay.”

Shuffling into a moderately more comfortable position against the wall, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trusting himself to the Force. It felt like a cool wave washing over him as the healing trance came to him instinctively, and even the sense of the collar faded away as he drifted.

* * *

A small hand shaking his shoulder made Obi-Wan turn his focus outwards again. He turned his neck carefully, wincing when he went too far. The collar was still stuck to his neck where Des had held the welding torch too close, but overall his movement was much less painful.

Obi-Wan could feel the shift in the vibrations of the engine and closed his eyes briefly. While he had been in the trance, the ship had gone into hyperspace. It would be much harder to escape if they reached an actual headquarters.

Boba was standing in front of him, looking worried.

“We couldn’t wake you up.” Boba sounded unimpressed. If he’d heard stories about the big bad _jetii,_ Obi-Wan could see why. He wasn’t doing much to live up to the legends.

“I’m sorry that I worried you. I’m doing much better now though.” Obi-Wan could tell Boba wouldn’t appreciate being patronized, but the children were still young and panic wouldn’t help them at all. He kept his voice even, and was rewarded when the boy continued.

“It’s about time for them to feed us, so we thought we wouldn’t wait to get you up.”

“Thank you.”

The children were all spread along the back of the cell. Most of them were quiet, but he heard snippets of conversations in Mando’a, as well as Ryl and Shryriiwook.

Obi-Wan stretched his awareness further into the ship and stiffened when he felt several beings with focused intent in the hallway beyond the door.

“Boba, there’s more than one person coming. Is that normal?”

Boba’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No.”

Almost hidden beneath the signatures of the others, the odd presence he’d felt in the hangar was back. It was curiously muffled, but Obi-Wan could feel it if he left himself open to the Force.

He didn’t have time to puzzle it out, though, as the door to the cargo bay hissed open.

Several Mandalorians in full beskar’gam came to a stop in front of the cell.

“How is the little Mand’alor today?” The ray shield came down and Obi-Wan scowled when an armored being strode into the cell. Unlike the rest of the Mandalorians, his armor wasn’t simple blue and gray. He also wasn’t wearing a helmet. Straight black hair just reached the front plates of his black armor, offset by pale skin. The dark red cape that obscured most of his body reminded Obi-Wan of freshly-spilled blood, as it was likely meant to. His face was...rough.

Maybe in a different life it could have been called handsome, but in this one it was almost bisected by a scar whose edges reached his ear on the right side. It almost looked like an explosion had gone off inside his helmet at some point. No facial hair grew where the scar tissue was, so the uneven stubble that was clinging stubbornly to his jawline looked like it had been glued there by a child.

 _“Dar’manda demagolka!”_ Boba shrieked and lashed out as the man grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him out of the cell.

Obi-Wan made to do...something, lurching forward for a split second until the whine of blasters warming made him freeze, arms halfway extended towards Boba.

He hated feeling this useless.

Boba was still slamming his free arm against the man’s torso, likely doing more harm to himself than his captor and Obi-Wan was driven to support him _somehow_.

“I will kill you if you harm that boy," he said evenly, even as rage filled his chest with a familiar burning.

One of the masked figures behind the man dug out the collar remote and hit a button, sending Obi-Wan into convulsions on the deck. “Know your place, _jetii._ ”

Fury gave him the strength to sit back up and watch as Boba was dragged from the cell, glaring at the man the whole time. He knew he didn’t look threatening with his hands and feet bound and the collar around his neck, but his sincerity must have shown in his face because Boba gave him a small nod.

As they disappeared behind the heavy door, Obi-Wan committed his face to memory. He was still glaring after them when a small weequay came up behind him.

“Did you really mean that?”

“Mean what?” Obi-Wan couldn’t regret what he’d said, but he did regret saying it in a cell full of children. Although, they were Mandalorian children, so maybe they’d found it comforting.

“That you’d kill him if he hurt Boba.”

“Yes.”

“I heard that Jedi weren’t ‘sposed to do that.”

“I simply informed him of the consequences of his actions,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “Now, if he took Boba to have lunch, he doesn’t have to worry, does he?”

Determination flooded his awareness and he blinked when she stuck her hand out firmly. “I’m Calsen Blyd.”

Obi-Wan had to lift both hands due to the binders, but took her hand, shaking it as he was unable to clasp wrists in a proper Mandalorian greeting. “Obi-Wan.” Calsen giggled.

Obi-Wan tried to keep his voice calm as he asked, “Calsen, has that happened before?”

She made a face. “Once.”

“For about how long? Was Boba okay when he got back?”

Shrugging, she began eating one of the ration bars. “‘Dunno. Boba had a couple bruises.”

Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head at the bar she tried to offer him. He did take the water, however, drinking carefully to avoid setting off the collar again.

With Calsen’s blunt appraisal and apparent approval, several of the other children came closer. He smiled gently, and several of them smiled back. They approached slowly but Obi-Wan couldn’t blame them for that at all.

It was a good mix of species, a twi’lek and a zabrak, even a wookie. Boba seemed to be one of the oldest in the group, though he couldn’t judge the age of the wookie well, and Obi-Wan felt his heart break a little.

The wookie was the next to actually speak, and Obi-Wan had learned just enough Shryriiwook from Master Tyvokka to decipher a name from the high-pitched howls. “It’s nice to meet you, Rheom.” He exchanged a nod with the wookie cub.

Calsen stepped to the side and a twi’lek came forward, dragging a younger boy with her. “I’m Usa, and this is Corark. He’s shy.” 

“Then it was very kind of you to introduce him,” Obi-Wan said solemnly. Usa’s grin seemed to be enough to encourage the other twi’lek and the zabrak, who crowded closer, trying to talk over each other to introduce themselves.

Obi-Wan’s head swam with information, but eventually the children must have thought he knew enough and they dispersed. None of them went far, but it wasn’t a large cell for seven children, even before an adult was thrown in.

The zabrak, Ikem, stayed nearby when he folded his legs underneath him to meditate.

They were a good reminder to stay calm, and he forced his breath to come slower and even out as Obi-Wan thought about his actions. He was being rash, threatening people who could easily harm the children. His jaw clenched and he took a deep breath to relax as memories of Bandomeer began creeping up on him again. Memories of Melida/Daan weren’t far behind and he took a moment to reflect on his uneasiness about the situation, embracing his frustration before releasing it to the Force. He was no untrained youngling now, and he would get these children away from their captors if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

Time passed hazily in meditation, but the creep of foreign presences drew him back to himself in time to watch the ray shield come down and a new crewmember shove a battered Boba into the cell.

All the anger he’d thought he’d successfully meditated away came back in a wave, and Obi-Wan’s angry turn to the mercenary tugged at his neck. It was enough to set off the collar again and he was decently sure he cracked a tooth with how hard he’d snapped his jaw shut. The shocks faded and he could only be grateful that the misfires weren’t quite as bad as the remote’s settings.

The boy skirted by him and he could almost make out the outline of a hand on the boy’s cheek along with a black eye that extended over his cheek. It seemed particularly vivid, and the knot of rage that sat in his chest coiled tighter. Still, he kept his voice calm when he called Boba over.

“I can try to heal that for you.”

Boba’s dark brown eyes were wary, but he stepped closer. “Why would you do that? We don’t know each other.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe that harm to children is abhorrent.”

“I’m not a child!”

“Your height says differently,” Obi-Wan said with a forced smile. “Boba, Jedi value children as much as Mandalorians do. But even if we didn’t, it’s still the right thing to do.”

His bluntness seemed to do the trick. “Okay then.” Boba finally came within reach and Obi-Wan raised his hands slowly, afraid to startle the boy.

It was bad enough he suspected that Boba had a fractured cheekbone. Prodding gently at the purpling bruise, he asked, “Is your vision blurry? Can you move your eyes all around for me?” 

Boba winced and tried. “I can see fine.” He sounded understandably nervous, but Obi-Wan didn’t see anything wrong with Boba’s eye. Lucky.

“Okay, that’s good,” he soothed. Obi-Wan closed his own eyes and coaxed the Force to rejuvenate damaged areas. It was much harder to do for someone else, especially someone who was Force-blind, but he was determined to heal Boba to the best of his ability. This close, he could concentrate on the light he could feel in Boba, in the Force around him. He sought out the spots where it wavered or stopped, the broken cells where blood vessels had popped and caused bruising obvious. Fatigue stopped him eventually, and he opened his eyes to examine his handiwork.

Boba’s black eye had faded to look like it had happened at least a week ago, while the bruise on his cheek had healed entirely. He ran a thumb over the boy’s cheekbone, satisfied when he didn’t flinch or wince away. Obi-Wan let his hands fall back into his lap. “That’s as much as I can do.”

He didn’t think Boba had ever stopped being suspicious of him, so the small smile he received was shocking. “Thank you. It feels a lot better.”

Obi-Wan smiled back. “I’m glad.” He almost let Boba walk away to join the others, but the questions he’d been thinking about demanded answers. “Boba?”

“Yeah?”

Obi-Wan’s words died on his lips. He had suspicions about why the crew had called him ‘little Mand’alor,’ but if he was right it was better for Boba to tell him on his own. “Who was that?”

“Tor Vizsla,” Boba said shortly. “He leads _Kyr’tsad,_ Death Watch.”

Nodding, Obi-Wan shifted to sit cross-legged on the cold floor. He should have realized, honestly. The most extreme assassination attempts against Satine had always been Death Watch, and the grude against him was...interesting. “My Master and I were investigating kidnappings when I was captured. We suspected a slaving ring, but it wasn’t quite right. Is it all Death Watch?”

Boba scowled. “They have to steal new people all the time because true _Mando’ade_ know they’re full of banthashit. ”

 _All the children here..._ It painted a bleak picture for Boba’s continued survival.

“Boba,” he said casually, gesturing the boy closer and lowering his voice, “we need to start thinking about how to get out of here.”

He turned carefully away from the camera in the hall, pulling his right foot into his lap. Prying the heel away, he revealed a hidden vibroblade to Boba. The blade was only a couple inches, and it was a fairly flimsy nodel, but it had served him well in previous unforeseen circumstances.

He handed it to Boba. “You should have this, I’m a little shaky at the moment.”

Boba turned it over in his hand. “Why didn’t they find it? They found all of mine.”

Obi-Wan smiled wryly as he put his boot back in order. He was somehow unsurprised that the child usually carried knives of his own. “I’ve found that most beings, even the most suspicious, would not suspect a Jedi of carrying any weapon other than their lightsaber. Or hidden weapons, really. I only try to use it in emergencies for that reason; it doesn’t give a very good impression of the Order if Jedi start pulling knives out of their shoes.” Leaning in slightly, he stage-whispered, “I know a Jedi who uses a very fancy knife as a hairpin.”

Grinning, Boba nodded.

Obi-Wan’s next thought was that Boba would absolutely tell his _buir_ , rendering his trick less effective. _Oh well._

"We'll need to get off before we reach the final destination. I doubt we’d be able to escape an actual base full of Death Watch commandos.”

Boba frowned. "But what if the next time we stop isn't soon enough?"

Boba had an uncanny knack for voicing Obi-Wan's own fears. Still, he tried to make himself sound confident when he answered.

Shrugging slightly, he said, "We'll do the best we can."

Obi-Wan tried to count days, but it was hard when Death Watch only appeared to feed their prisoners when they remembered they had any. The schedule was irregular, and combined with the unknown amount of time he’d been on Urkuz and Des’ ship, he couldn’t form any solid estimates to their position. His internal clock had taken a rather large beating along with the rest of him.

Still, judging by how bad he felt, it had likely been at least a tenday since he’d been captured.

There was a constant tremble in his limbs that said he’d regret it when he could finally move his arms again, and every time the collar went off it was harder to make himself stop shaking long enough to end it.

It had probably been another week on Vizsla’s ship the next time they had true company. After mealtime, thankfully _sans_ the self-proclaimed Mand’alor, Boba and Calsen huddled close to Obi-Wan’s back. Boba had the vibroblade and Obi-Wan prayed that his hands were steady enough not to slip and cut off any of Obi-Wan’s fingers. After a few tense minutes where Calsen hissed something to Boba in Mando’a and Boba replied with a terse “ _You_ do it then!”

Footsteps in the hallways outside made him frown when he recognized they were louder than he’d expect. Listening closer, the hum of the hyperdrive engine had stopped and he felt a chill go down his spine when he realized just how out of it he’d been if he hadn’t recognized it earlier. Obi-Wan could hope that it was just a stopover point. 

Unscheduled visits by the crew, however, might mean they were out of time.

The footsteps coalesced into two familiar presences as they got closer.

“Boba. Hide the knife.”

He stood and shifted to block the children from view as much as possible as Urkuz and Des came through the door. When they turned towards his shared cell he smirked. “Miss me already?”

Des barked a laugh, and all he could feel was cruel amusement. “I’ll miss you when we get to Concordia for sure.”

Obi-Wan kept his smile off his face.

“It’s very nice of you to tell me all alone like this.” He blinked slowly, looking up through his lashes. He could practically hear Qui-Gon yelling at him. _Time and place, Padawan!_ But honestly, it threw enough beings off their rhythm he couldn’t see himself stopping anytime soon.

Urkuz shifted uncomfortably, giving a glance towards the door. 

_Oh._

_Were_ they really alone? That would be foolish of them.

He kept his eyes on Des as she hit the panel on the ray shields.

Obi-Wan shifted but Urkuz didn’t waste any time, grabbing Corark, who couldn’t move away from the opening fast enough. The man put a vibroblade to the boy's neck and Obi-Wan froze.

Des walked inside the cell while Urkuz backed out, still holding Corark. The larger Mandalorian hit the panel, leaving Des inside with them. Obi-Wan gave Boba the slightest headshake. They’d have to wait until the shields were back down.

Des pushed him down to his knees before her gloved hand tugged his head up by his hair. He couldn’t see her face but her presence in the Force was all smug satisfaction as she pulled a vibroblade from her belt. He didn’t have time to jerk away before her hand came up and cut...his braid? He must have looked confused, because she graced him with an explanation.

“I’m not usually one to take trophies, but I decided to make an exception. Tor wants to kill you himself, so I thought I’d take something to remember you by.”

Obi-Wan curled his lips into a sneer. “So courageous, cutting my hair while I’m tied up. I’m sure that’ll get you the attention you want,” he said sarcastically. “My lightsaber not enough of a trophy for you? Or are you worried you’d cut your own head off with it?”

The hand that was holding the braid punched him square in the mouth and he felt his teeth cut his lip. He spat a mouthful of blood on the floor of the cell as the collar sent flames down his nerves. He could feel his muscles contract involuntarily and he had to stay on the floor until the shocks died down.

“I bet Vizsla breaks you so bad you’ll _beg_ to be allowed to die.”

Obi-Wan laughed, and even to his own ears it sounded slightly deranged. “He’ll need better interrogators than _you_ if he wants that to happen.” Des snarled behind her helmet. Obi-Wan widened his eyes innocently. “Oh, did he take away your remote? Can’t even beat up a _jetii_ properly without your fancy toys,” he said dismissively.

Des kicked out, and Obi-Wan gasped for air as her boot connected with his diaphragm and drove the air from his lungs.

She laughed lightly when he didn’t so much as shift from where he lay, panting. “We’re done here Urkuz, let’s go.”

Urkuz deactivated the shield and released Corark, and Obi-Wan _moved._

All the cameras he could see shattered in a burst of sparks and flying metal, and the cuffs holding his hands and feet together sprung open with a protesting screech. 

The collar misfired again but he ignored how his neck screamed as he flung his hands out with a snarl, and Urkuz and Des barely had time to turn around before they went flying into the ray shield across the hallway, a sharp _zap_ telling him he’d hit his target.

Their armor didn’t protect them as he snapped his hand down sharply. 

There was a wet _snap_ , like branches breaking, as their legs shattered. He didn’t enjoy killing, but everything he knew about the Death Watch would not allow him to take half-measures. Alone, with children to protect, this was the most he could compromise, though it still felt _wrong._

Standing, he stumbled over to Corark. “Are you okay?” The young twi’lek was shaking but Usa was there a moment later, pulling him into a hug. Corark managed a nod and Obi-Wan turned to the second cell and hit the release. The other ray shield came down and he turned back to the cell with the other Mandalorian children.

“I don’t have much time,” he warned them. “As soon as they notice the cameras are down I’m going to get a hell of a shock.”

Boba nodded, jogging over to his side. “Ok.” He looked down at the unconscious bodies of Urkuz and Des dispassionately. “At least they have blasters.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “But not my lightsaber. Vizsla probably took it.” He picked up the blasters, setting them to ‘stun.’ None of the children here would become killers on his watch. "Does anyone other than Boba know how to shoot?" Rheom roared an affirmative, so Obi-Wan passed one blaster to the Wookie. "Boba, may I have my knife back?"

"Sure. Why aren't you taking the blaster?"

"I can make do. I'll take the next one if it makes you feel better." He didn’t want to admit his aim would be worth next to nothing as he moved, constantly setting off the collar. Boba handed him the vibroblade and Obi-Wan spun it lightly between his fingers. They shook but his dexterity was still good enough he could put up a fight.

He turned to the cell in front of them, and knelt, trying to seem unthreatening, though he knew he wasn’t going to be very successful after what he’d just done. “Hello everyone. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am a Jedi Padawan, and I am going to do everything I can to get you all out of here.”

When nobody came out of the cell, Calsen and Rheom began pulling kids out. There were only five in this cell, and the oldest looked like they were Boba’s age, while the youngest couldn’t have been older than five standard.

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” Obi-Wan led the group to the lift, but paused when it was open. “I want all of you to stay out of sight.”

The first Mandalorian they came across was walking down the hallway towards the cargo bay, hand already on their gun. Obi-Wan held out a hand and slammed them into the bulkhead before they could draw.

Boba didn't hesitate to shoot, and they slumped to the ground.

They made it a few more feet down the hall before the Force caught his attention and then his world was pain.

White sparks shot across his vision and he jerked before stumbling forwards, biting his cheek viciously to give himself something else to focus on. It reopened the spot he’d torn up earlier, flooding his mouth with blood, but it was enough to keep from screaming until the shock died down.

“Obi-Wan?”

“Collar!” He gasped, hand going to the bulkhead for stability.

Boba was kind enough to give him a moment, and eventually Obi-Wan grit out, "We still have to get to the hangar. Let's keep moving."

He pushed off the wall, muscles seizing but still working--for now.

Doing his best to herd the children along while keeping in front of Boba and Rheom was a challenge, but apparently he was less intimidating than Death Watch, and they were all keeping up well enough.

The tight hallways of the ship were frustrating when he worried that any door could open and cut him off from the children behind him but he refused to walk in the middle of them or behind them.

General knowledge of ships led him vaguely “down,” checked against Boba who kept their group on track when the collar fried any semblance of thought from his mind. He was asking for a spectacular Force burnout at the rate he was using it to prop himself up, but he could only grit his teeth and keep moving.

* * *

He didn’t think anything of missing opposition until they reached the hangar.

The bay was full of Death Watch members and Obi-Wan knew they were likely screwed. Not the full crew, they’d likely stopped to resupply, but enough to know that he couldn’t fight them all off.

There was a familiar figure in dark armor standing in front of the other Mandalorians. Obi-Wan hadn’t seen him with his helmet before but it fit, three jagged red lines striped vertically over the visor like blood.

Vizsla held up a hand.

His hand went to his belt, where Obi-Wan could see the hilt of a lightsaber he’d never seen before next to his own. So _that_ was the presence he’d felt. Vizsla ignited it and to Obi-Wan’s shock, it was completely black.

“I was planning to do this later, _jetii_ scum, but I can’t complain if you decided to come to me.”

Obi-Wan finally drew his eyes away from the blade when Vizsla took something else from his belt.

Recognizing the collar’s remote, he snarled, trying to shove all of his anger into the Force to stop himself from doing something extremely stupid. It wasn’t working well. He reached out a hand and squeezed, crumpling the metal into so much scrap.

There were too many Death Watch and only one of him. The children were still behind the shelter of the doorway, but if Obi-Wan died it would be nothing for the commandos to overcome them. His eyes flickered towards the second lightsaber on Vizsla’s belt as he let his mouth move on its own.

_Divide and conquer._

“Oh, I’m certain I’m enough to _challenge_ you. I warned you if you harmed Boba I would kill you.”

Vizsla laughed. “You’d challenge me for the boy? He’s hardly worth it. And you’re hardly strong enough to make a proper opponent. Look at you, you can barely stay on your feet.”

“Are you _hut’uun?”_ Using a Mando’a insult made Vizsla pull back an inch, and Obi-Wan took vindictive pleasure in making the commando reconsider him. “You have no business calling _me_ scum when you’re not worthy of your armor, kidnapping _ad’ike_.”

A commando behind Vizsla raised their blaster and it whined as they prepared to fire, but Vizsla threw a hand up. _“Nayc. Ibic solus cuyir ner. Meh jetii copaanir at geroya olyaor mando, rala kaysh.”_

The Mandalorians behind him lowered their blasters reluctantly and took a few steps back, clearing a dueling space.

“Make them swear they’ll honor the duel. _Par kote,_ no?”

He could feel the tone of the room change, and a wave of support from the Mandalorian children behind him as well as the deep surprise and wariness of Death Watch in front of him.

Obi-Wan tossed his knife back and forth in his hands, forcing his fingers steady. “You should accept my challenge. Unless you’re scared a _jetiise verd’ika_ can beat you.”

Vizsla growled behind the helmet before agreeing. _“Par kote, jetii.”_

Then he lunged.

Obi-Wan skipped to the side, hunching his shoulders involuntarily as the collar went off and straightening them by force.

Both combatants circled around the center of the ring for a moment, Obi-Wan fighting the low-grade shock of the collar.

He struck first, flicking both hands out in a feint then sending the vibroblade clattering against Vizsla’s helmet. 

The Mandalorian reeled back for a moment and Obi-Wan took advantage of the split-second distraction to call his lightsaber from the commando’s belt. 

Springing forward, he ignited the blue saber, crystal singing its harmony with him in the Force. Vizsla had to backpedal to avoid the sweeping strike, getting his own saber between them.

Obi-Wan was forced to disengage and the older man rushed him right back, Vizsla’s weight pushing him back almost to the door. He called on the Force to bend instead of break, holding his guard and pushing Vizsla back for breathing room. After a few more testing taps between them, both disengaged, Obi-Wan refusing to move away from the door to expose his back to Vizsla’s people. He had no confidence that Vizsla wouldn’t simply order them to shoot him while he was distracted.

_His first proper lightsaber duel and his opponent was a Force-null terrorist._

The absurd thought ran through Obi-Wan’s head as he tried to stare through Vizsla’s visor. 

He couldn’t open his senses fully unless he wanted to be overwhelmed by the collar, which was sparking constantly in protest of his movement, but Vizsla’s rage was hard to miss. Having the man’s focus on him was like standing in the path of a rancor about to charge.

Vizsla finally broke the stalemate, flames exploding from his bracer as he charged. Obi-Wan was far too tired to rely on his favored Ataru. Blocking the flames with the Force gave him just enough time to slide around the blow that would have cut him in two.

He danced around the circle that had surrounded the combatants, twirling his ‘saber to force himself to focus. Spending a majority of his missions on the run had sharpened his Soresu and with Vizsla perfectly willing to be the aggressor he found himself slipping into the opening stance. But to succeed he would have to do more than _outlast_. He didn’t have the stamina.

Vizsla kept coming hard, trying to keep the fight inside Obi-Wan’s guard. Only Obi-Wan’s greater familiarity with lightsabers kept all of his limbs attached to his body, letting Vizsla’s powerful blows slide around him or off of his own blade. The illusion of an edge on the black ‘saber kept catching his eye and he had to refocus before Vizsla successfully cut off his head.

A wide slashing feint made an opening and he kept his swing going, catching Vizsla's next strike in a block and kicking out.

Vizsla barely stumbled but it was enough to give Obi-Wan some space.

He breathed for a moment and pulled the Force tighter around him. 

Vizsla obviously hadn’t expected Obi-Wan to last so long because his next lunge left an opening that Obi-Wan used to take a chance, a burst of the Force enhancing his speed to lash out with his own blade. 

Vizsla moved his arm out of harm's way but didn't manage to backstep fast enough to avoid the whole arc. The blue blade didn't make contact, however, beskar chestplate taking the brunt of the blow. 

Instead of bisecting Vizsla, Obi-Wan's lightsaber left a scorch mark that stretched diagonally across the man's armor, smoldering edges standing out against matte black.

Both combatants separated again.

Vizsla snarled at him and the helmet made it sound almost mechanical, a deep noise that would give children nightmares. Obi-Wan remained calm, centering himself with his determination to guard the door.

The Mandalorian was aggressive, but Obi-Wan was a Jedi. Though skilled, Vizsla was obviously unused to using the darksaber as more than a showy prop and his defense was limited. He relied more on his armor to protect him than skill, and as they settled back into the duel properly, Obi-Wan left several more burns on the dark metal.

It was imperative for Obi-Wan to keep his distance. In close quarters, Vizsla’s armor gave him the advantage and on a forceful strike that took him close to Obi-Wan, he used the opportunity to repay the Jedi for the earlier kick. 

Obi-Wan felt the air leave his lungs and he felt something give with a _snap._

He stumbled back, dropping to one knee and left hand coming up to cradle his ribs.

Vizsla laughed. “I was expecting more of a challenge from the _jetii_ that kept the child Duchess alive for a year on the run. But I suppose you had your Master to cover for you then. Once you’re dead I think I’ll send your head to Kryze. She probably won’t even remember who you were.”

His head tilted and Obi-Wan felt his focus shift towards the children. “Or perhaps one of them can be my messenger. If you thought that spawn was worth dying for, you can watch him die first.”

There was no air in his lungs but Obi-Wan dragged a hiss out on sheer anger. _How dare he._ All of the children were already full of fear, and how _dare_ Vizsla threaten them. 

Vizsla charged again, but Obi-Wan wasn’t going to let pain stop him. 

There was no calm left to him, but there was a stillness he grasped for desperately. As Vizsla approached he simply breathed, letting his world narrow down to the movement. Augmented with a burst from his jetpack, Vizsla looked like he was moving in slow motion. He let the blow slide by him, lashing out as Vizsla sailed by. 

He reached out further in the Force, letting it guide his ‘saber and spun around ready for the return blow. 

At first, he was confused when he saw Vizsla’s _buy’ce_ fall to the floor in a cloud of singed hair.

Then someone screamed, and the air quickly filled with blaster bolts. 

Still riding the most intense connection he’d ever reached with the Force, Obi-Wan swung his lightsaber in a vicious arc and made to throw his free hand back to shut the door between himself and the children, but Boba shouted something in Mando’a that made the remainder of Death Watch freeze.

Obi-Wan’s mind tripped over itself to translate, but he had no idea why “Do you have no honor” would stop the mercenaries in their tracks. He’d thought the answer was obvious.

But surprisingly, none of the Death Watch made another move to shoot.

Turning cautiously to look over his shoulder, Obi-Wan asked, “Boba?”

The boy’s face was stony, full of anger that Obi-Wan could feel like a weight in the air. For such a small boy, he held the attention of everyone in the bay. Continuing in Mando’a, Boba said, _“He challenged Vizsla, your Mand’alor, in single combat. Vizsla lost. Do you have no honor to speak of?”_

There was a brief silence before someone spoke up. _“He is no Mandalorian. Jetii scum cannot be the leader of Mandalorians.”_

Boba’s eyes, dark and serious, pinned Obi-Wan to the spot. “Did you know what you were doing with the challenge?”

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath, tempted to look down. But that would be an unconscionable act of weakness right now. “Yes.” And he’d have to back up that claim, too.

There were still too many enemies. This was an opportunity that wouldn’t come again. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, preparing to do something very stupid.

He held out his left hand and called the black ‘saber to his hand.

Igniting it, blue and black light spun as he got used to holding a ‘saber in each hand, and he set his feet in a classic jar’kai guard.

“As Boba says. By your own oaths you are bound to follow me, but if you need convincing…”

The tension seemed to build until Obi-Wan could have cut it with his discarded knife.

Then the Force screamed and he twirled away from a whipcord line, lashing out with both lightsabers.

Apparently not all of the crew ranked for pure beskar, because he cut through whipcord and chestplate alike, parallel slashes bisecting both. He didn’t have time to regret the loss of life as he lurched sideways and a blaster bolt screamed next to his ear where his head had been a moment before.

The next bolts were deflected with the Darksaber as he worked his way towards the commando, blue armor dancing in his view. 

He lunged, and the Mandalorian ignited their jetpack to get above him, but the bay was hardly an open space. 

Between the short ceiling throwing off the Mandalorian’s launch and Obi-Wan’s determination to end this _quickly,_ he grabbed the Mandalorian with the Force to slam them down to the deck and knocked them out with a harsh hit to the head.

His vision tunneled as another released a swarm of metal into the air that whistled towards him. There were too many to cut down so he threw both hands and a concussive wave of the Force out in front of him, dropping both the shards and the Mandalorian who’d fired them. 

From their back, the Mandalorian hit something on a bracer that sent Obi-Wan flying into a wall. He deactivated both sabers on instinct to avoid skewering himself and barely recovered in time to roll away from the charging commando. 

He pushed off the wall but stayed close, and the Mandalorian pushed off backwards. Obi-Wan was able to angle his blue blade towards their arm and they collapsed to the deck, already trying to grasp what was no longer there.

Three quick steps took him back to the center of the bay and he waited for the next attack, but none came.

He was just thankful no one had decided to use a slugthrower on a ship that was still possibly in space.

Silence fell over the bay and Obi-Wan could feel his broken ribs start to protest.

“Okay.” Obi-Wan cautiously lowered the sabers. “Is anyone else going to issue a challenge immediately?”

Silence.

“You’re still an _auretiise_ _jetii_.”

All the voices came from behind helmets, but that didn’t matter when he had the Force and he turned his attention to the one who’d spoken. “Yes, but apparently _Mandokarla_ enough to claim the Darksaber. Unless you’ve forgotten that it was a Mandalorian Jedi who made it?” They snarled, but Obi-Wan leveled them with a glare. “Kyr’tsad is just going to have to deal with it, and if anyone has an issue with me, they can issue a challenge.”

When a few commandos shifted uneasily, Obi-Wan growled, “I’m no more _aruetii_ than someone who convinces _Mandalorians_ to _steal children.”_

_There. That hit home._

The tension in the Force spiked before finally dwindling to a manageable level. 

Behind him he heard murmuring and Boba stepped through the doorway. The other Mandalorian children followed him, and the other children from the hold weren’t about to be left behind. Soon, Obi-Wan had a throng around him, Boba to his right with hands still gripping his blaster.

Looking down set the collar off again, though the remote was destroyed, and Obi-Wan absently shoved the pain down. “Is there a forge onboard?”

“No, just a torch.” It was said reluctantly, but he’d still gotten an answer.

Obi-Wan scoffed. _“That,_ I’m familiar with.” Closing his eyes briefly, he drew in a breath through his nose. Priorities. “Someone go get me some bacta, and someone else go find everyone who needs medical attention. Bring a couple people with you. Everyone else, go to your quarters and stay there. Unless you'd rather escort yourselves to the brig. Clear?"

His brain was still working on accepting that he was alive, and the Force was still screaming through him like nothing he’d ever felt before.

He spun on his heel before pausing at the door. “And someone needs to take me to the cockpit.”

There were no thoughts in his head apart from _too fast, too fast,_ and the shock of his successful battle with Vizsla, and he followed one of the commandos in a fugue, barely noticing the children all trailing behind them.

In the cockpit, Obi-Wan made it clear they were _not_ continuing to Concordia.

He considered staying in port, but the other half of the crew would be back soon, rushing if anyone thought to comm them, and Aduba-III wasn’t exactly friendly territory for a Jedi. 

Scanning the pilot’s intentions through the Force, he only felt reluctant submission. It would have to do.

He turned back to the commando that had accompanied them and said, “Take me to the captain’s quarters.”

Taking care not to brush anyone, Obi-Wan and his accidental gaggle of children were ushered into a suite of rooms that seemed large for the model of ship they were on, but Obi-Wan only sighed and locked the door.

“If anyone wants to call dibs on the bed, I’m not going to be in there for a minute,” he said dryly. A few children paused for a moment before running off.

Obi-Wan made a beeline to the ‘fresher.

He avoided looking at himself in the mirror and rubbed a few packets of bacta onto his neck near the burn wounds, watching the bacterial goop start to regenerate his flesh.

 _Now comes the painful part._ He grimaced slightly at the thought. Tilting his head back so he could see what he was working with in the mirror, he gently prodded at the place where the collar had fused to his skin and hissed as it set the collar off again.

Slathering the area in bacta, he took a deep breath.

A high-pitched whine escaped his clenched teeth as he pushed the collar away from his skin, simultaneously pressing bacta into the gaps as he ripped the metal away.

Minutes or hours could have passed before he was finished, skin raw but more obviously on the mend.

The next part...he looked down at his shaking hands and pursed his lips. Unlocking the ‘fresher door, he called, “Boba?”

The boy was there surprisingly quickly.

“Yeah, Obi-Wan?”

“I need you to do something for me.” He took his lightsaber off his belt and gave it to him. Boba’s eyes widened as he held the metal cylinder. “I need you to cut the collar off.” He tilted his head back again, trying to give the boy the most space to work and trying not to think of all the ways it could go wrong.

The _snap-hiss_ of the lightsaber igniting was, for some reason, anything but comforting.

Heat near his throat. Obi-Wan fought to keep himself still, and the tremors eased as the collar fell away, his body truly relaxing for the first time since it had been put on him. He let out a long sigh of relief as the lightsaber turned off.

“Thank you very much.”

He watched Boba go, closing the ‘fresher door to give himself some privacy. There was a water sink, not just a sonic wash, and he cupped his hands under the faucet, splashing water over his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror a moment, noting the empty spot behind his ear where his Padawan braid would normally fall and frowning. Unexpectedly, he felt tears start to well up, along with a tightness in his chest that wasn’t solely from his definitely-cracked ribs. The loss of adrenaline was making him too unraveled. He splashed more water on his face, bracing his hands on the sides of the basin and taking several deep breaths before drying his face and his hands with his tunic.

He returned to Vizsla’s cabin to find Boba sitting on the bed with most of the other children. “Is it comfortable enough?”

Ignoring the question, Boba asked, “Are we gonna meet up with my buir soon?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I want to. But I can’t just order Death Watch to surrender. You saw how angry they were that I won, right?”

Boba nodded reluctantly, along with Calsen and Usa. Corark nodded too, but it was clear the younger twi’lek was only nodding because his friend was. Since Boba at least looked like he was following, Obi-Wan tried to press on. “My...position...is going to be hard to keep, and if they think I’m going to betray them not even the shreds of honor they have are going to keep them from killing me and declaring someone else their leader.”

The older Mandalorian children all nodded again. Calsen piped up, “So what are we gonna do?” She frowned, crossing her arms. “I don’t wanna stay here.”

Obi-Wan knelt in front of the bed. “We’re going to Cerea for a bit. It’s an agricultural world, which means we might not be able to contact anyone, but they won’t be able to either. I’m not sure how long we’ll be there. You’re not gonna like what I have to do, I know I’m going to hate acting like them. But it’ll keep everyone safe so I’m still going to do it.”

He noticed movement from the children who had been in the other cell, still huddled in a group. Still kneeling, he tried to project a feeling of safety at them until they stopped looking quite so terrified. “Hello, I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to talk earlier. My friends here are Boba, Rheom, Calsen, Usa, Corark, Atu, and Ikem.” He pointed out each one as he said their name. “Would you mind telling us your names?”

Boba smiled encouragingly, and a small togruta girl whistled nervously before speaking. “‘m Sach.”

Obi-Wan bowed slightly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Sach.”

The tallest child, a dark-haired human boy, introduced himself next. “Dyn Krenmir. I’m from Corellia.”

“Ammel. And this is my sibling Kosuno.” Both mirialan children were a light shade of green that reminded Obi-Wan strongly of Luminara. Neither were old enough to have their first tattoo.

Obi-Wan turned to the last child, a selonian who looked rather out of place. They shook their head and Obi-Wan smiled without teeth. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now. Will you stay with your friends so I know you won’t get separated from the group?”

They nodded hesitantly and grabbed Sach’s hand, who took it with a smile.

“Thank you. Sach is going to watch out for you, and I’ll watch out for Sach. Sound good?”

The small group finally seemed to relax as they nodded.

Shifting his weight back on his heels to stand back up, Obi-Wan said, “Now I’ve got to go make people very angry.”

Boba laughed from the bed. “Are we gonna be angry with you?”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “It’s quite possible.”

He touched Boba’s shoulder lightly. “You’re gonna have to play a part too, you know. You hate Kyr’tsad but for now you have to act like it’s fine. You know that it’s not only Death Watch who was bound by what I did.”

Dark eyes watched him for a moment and then Boba nodded. As son of the Mand’alor, Obi-Wan knew he was likely the most familiar with the concept of duty, and so far, he’d acted as competently as any Jedi Padawan on a mission.

“Boba, Rheom, I need you two to watch the door. Lock it when I leave and don’t let anyone in who isn’t me.”

Ammel blurted, “You should make a password!”

Their sibling nodded eagerly. “Yeah! So we know it’s you when you come back.”

He heard whispering and saw as Usa nudged Corark. The boy shook his head and buried it in Usa’s side. She looked up at him with a grin. “He said you should make it _‘shebs_.’”

All the Mandalorian children giggled and Obi-Wan laughed with them. “I think we should let our new friends pick it, since they came up with the idea.”

Dyn decided to add his two chits. “What about three knocks and a song?”

Obi-Wan snorted. “I can’t sing very well. I’ll knock three times in a pattern, is that alright?”

Dyn looked around to consult with the other children and then back up, nodding decisively. “That’ll work.”

Children satisfied with the password and smile still on his face, Obi-Wan set out into the rest of the ship.

The Death Watch members still on the bridge were tense. Obi-Wan kept a hand on the hilt of the Darksaber just in case one of them did something stupid, but it seemed like they were all willing to go along with the takeover for now.

The course to Cerea was still set, and when Obi-Wan checked the navlogs he could tell they hadn’t been tampered with, so he left to check on his...crewmembers. Medbay was full; Des and Urkuz still unconscious but set up in bone knitters, and there were two others taking up cots. A stasis pod was pulled out as well, with the body of Vizsla resting behind frosted transparisteel. The first challenger after Vizsla had already been given a spacer’s funeral.

The whole ship seemed quieter without Vizsla to run things, and the underlying _threat-determination_ that had surrounded the Death Watch members had largely died down. He was always watching from the corner of his eyes, senses stretched in the Force to be ready for the next attack.

 _Three days to Cerea._ And then unnumbered more until he figured out how in Sith hells he was supposed to contact anyone.

_Subdue Death Watch, call Master Qui-Gon, finish rescuing the children. Piece of cake._

After his initial check to make sure everything was running smoothly, there was really nothing for him to do, so he split his time between catnapping in a dead man’s room and glaring at the pilots. Death Watch and Jedi alike, Hyperspace prevented them from making any calls out, so they were all stuck together for the time being.

The second day, he’d even made a brief stop in the engine room. Mechanics was far from his strongest skill but he’d had enough drilled into him in the Temple to let him feel reasonably comfortable about the ship’s continued spaceworthiness.

He’d melted the lock with his lightsaber on his way out.

On the way back to Vizsla’s cabin he made a pit stop in the galley. It was fairly small, but with his order to quarters, at least he wasn’t sharing it with anyone. There was a bag on a hook near the entrance that he grabbed, filling it with ration bars and water bottles. After everything, he wanted to keep the children as far away from Death Watch as possible.

The children hadn’t given up their claim on the bed, so Obi-Wan was relegated to a desk and chair setup. Boba was increasingly smug, but after the cycle they’d had, Obi-Wan wasn’t inclined to argue about bed space with them. It was enough that the Mandalorian children seemed to have adopted the others, with all of the oldest keeping an eye on the youngest to make sure they were still ok. If Obi-Wan was honest with himself, it was fairly adorable.

Boba had split the four oldest into a kind of watch, with himself, Rheom, Calsen, and Dyn all taking turns staying awake. Obi-Wan could only shake his head.

Still.

* * *

“Where did the children come from?” He’d finally braved the medbay again, and pulled aside the commando who was working as head medic.

“The kids who aren’t Mando came from convoys.” Their voice was flat, as if they weren’t describing the kidnapping of children.

“And their families?”

“They were mostly taken if the opportunity came up. No clue whether most of them even have families to go back to.”

Rage filled Obi-Wan. How had Vizsla managed to get them to go along with this insanity? There had been enough complaints at several space stations that made it clear _someone_ was looking for them.

“You didn’t keep track of where they were taken from or anything?”

They shrugged. “They’re _aliit_ as far as clan Vizsla is concerned. It’s a _cin vhetin,_ we didn’t _need_ to know. Can you make them a better offer?”

“Considering I killed the _aliit’alor_ of clan Vizsla, I suppose I should, shouldn’t I?” he sneered. He was so grateful to Satine for teaching him Mando’a during their year-long scramble. He used it like a weapon, taunting Death Watch with their own language from the mouth of their most hated enemy, making sure they _knew_ he could hold them to their vows. It didn’t hurt that the majority of them spoke with the same Kaldevan accent he did, only a few Concord Dawn or true Mandalore accents scattered in the group. Their anger in the Force was surprisingly satisfying, something he was doing his best not to linger on.

His brief but frustrating conversation left him with no new information or leads on how to get the children back home. His best bet was a core world with a strong Judiciary branch, but the mention of convoys left him worried. How hard would a Judiciary officer look for a spacebound shuttle or group before shuffling the problem off to someone else? He returned to the children’s quarters just as lost as before.

Sleep wasn’t really an option for him, paranoid as he was about the remaining members of Death Watch on board deciding to mutiny. He’d stay in the cockpit but that left the children unguarded, and the conflicting urges were wearing him down.

He split the difference, meditating in the cockpit and keeping the children well-stocked so that they could hole up in Vizsla’s quarters.

It was the single most tense reversion to realspace he’d ever experienced, keeping a wary eye on the communications panel as the streaks of hyperspace faded away.

He ordered everyone to hand over their comms, gratified when only a couple tried to hide spares.

Cerea was a beautiful planet, deep jewel-toned colors only highlighting the lack of pollution found on many civilized worlds. Green and blue stood out under whitish-gray clouds denoting weather patterns. It almost seemed to glow under the light of its three suns.

The _Miai_ set down far away from any settlement, and Obi-Wan was half-grateful that he wouldn’t have to try to explain away the presence of a group of Mandalorians and a Jedi. The only outsider citadel on the same continent was too outdated to connect to with the _Miai’s_ comm capabilities and any hand-held comm would rely on relays. If he couldn’t call for help, neither could Death Watch. It was a distinctly petty satisfaction, but he would take what he could get.

He gathered the sorry group of Mandalorians in the hold. “We’re staying here.” There was really nothing he could add, and when there was no answer stronger than some brief protest he let them disband to set up camp. 

Well, more kicked them all out of the _Miai_ so he could have some time to familiarize himself with the ship without at least one hovering over his shoulder.

The first time he sat in the cockpit without anyone in armor within eyesight he had to talk himself out of taking off and stranding the rest of the group on Cerea. He would only be painting a target on his back, and more importantly, on the children.

If the Darksaber wasn’t enough to make Death Watch come after him, the humiliation he’d caused them was.

From the cockpit, he could see the commandos sparring. Hand-to-hand, for all intents and purposes just wasting time, but Obi-Wan knew the sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

His only saving grace so far was the hierarchy Death Watch swore by, because otherwise he would have been dead several times over. The commandos could still kill him if they all worked together, but he’d already indicated that he would accept individual challenges. Though he’d never trust them entirely, he did trust that whatever honor Boba had reminded them they had would make them stay satisfied with their current arrangement.

With the commandos kicked from the ship, he finally let the children have free run. He never saw any of them alone, and he knew none of them had ventured back to the cells. Boba and Rheom held onto their stolen blasters. It was a sensible move, because none of Death Watch would willingly relinquish theirs, either.

Cerea had long days, and he spent more time meditating than ever. It all would have been fine, except he couldn’t shake the dread that had begun creeping up his spine.

Nothing as distinct as a warning, only the inkling that _something_ was wrong. He was paranoid enough, surrounded by Mandalorians that far preferred him dead than alive, he really didn’t need the Force’s help to make him nervous. 

On the fourth day he was so desperate for something to do he began turning the ship upside down for _anything_ that would help. He’d torn the ship apart from the cargo hold to the cockpit, and now rifling through Vizsla’s desk was the only thing left. It was more organized than he’d have guessed from what he’d seen of the Mandalorian commando—although it admittedly hadn’t been much. Everything was unlabeled, and several datachips had more sophisticated protections than he’d really thought warranted. Out of curiosity, he tried to slice into them, but with unfamiliar tech set to Mando’a, there wasn’t much he could do. 

But he couldn’t shake the impression that they were important. _Well Vizsla wouldn’t miss them,_ Obi-Wan reasoned as he slipped the most heavily-encrypted into his boots.

The rest were simple bounties and other black-market deals that Death Watch had completed for various employers. Obi-Wan kept several of those chits as well.

Boba and Calsen had stuck near him, along with the other children, and promised to keep watch when he finally admitted he needed to sleep. At least a few hours.

He would have preferred the constant dread to waking up to the sound of engines. He hurried outside with the children, all looking skywards for Death Watch’s reinforcements. It was dusk, and he wasn’t sure if that meant this was better or worse for him. Fighting would likely keep until the morning, at least, but his instincts still said _danger._

The lights of the ship indicated it was a similar class to the _Miai,_ and it wascoming closer every moment. the members of Death Watch he could see seemed unbearably smug, and Obi-Wan had to fight the instinct to flee with the ship again.

_Don’t run from hunters._

“You wanted to prove you were _mandokar2_ enough to lead Kyr’tsad, right?” The call came from a familiar figure, helmet finally gone. Des was a tall human woman, pale skin washed out either from spending so much time spaceside or from her recent injury, Obi-Wan couldn’t determine.

If Obi-Wan had ever hated anyone in his life, it was Xanatos DuCrion. But Des was quickly becoming a close runner-up. Nothing he said would satisfy them, and now they had the numbers to wear him down—likely had before, but he’d earned a grudging wariness from them.

He frowned when he heard—another ship? There wasn’t any time to think further as something _screamed_ through the sky and the first ship exploded in a blaze of color and heat.

There wasn’t time to track where the mystery ship had gone as a wave of outrage swept through the camp, accompanied by raised blasters. “Finally resorted to calling in more _jetii,_ Kenobi?”

His sabers had been in his hands since he’d left the ship. When had he ignited them? “No, actually. I thought it was more _Kyr’tsad_ upstarts who felt like they needed to prove something.”

The children were still behind him.

Death Watch opened fire.

A few seconds later Obi-Wan swore he felt a slight vibration before the Force shrieked again, and he barely had time to yell at the children to get back and brace before the ramp of the ship blew apart.

He threw out his hands, keeping the worst of the shrapnel _away_ but they were all still thrown back, towards the main camp.

A dozen supercommandos stormed in.

_Oh not now._

His head was ringing but there was no new hail of blasterfire yet, and Obi-Wan chanced a look. Backlit as they were, it was impossible to tell the color of their armor, but they stopped when they saw the scene in front of them.

Chest heaving from the effort of staying standing, Obi-Wan considered his options. The camp was silent except for his breathing and the children shuffling nervously behind him. The standoff stretched for long moments. If it had been Death Watch reinforcements, surely they would have kept fighting?

“Don’t come any closer,” Obi-Wan finally snarled, flicking his hands to draw attention to the lightsabers instead of the children. The new commandos actually waited, and stretching his hearing with the Force, Obi-Wan could hear muffled conversation that must have been on an internal comm.

Drawing the Force tighter was like pulling on elastic that was already close to snapping, and he couldn’t augment his hearing to hear what they were saying before the one in the lead growled, “Release the children,” absolute hostility mixing with concern in their presence. Since he’d already been focusing on them as much as possible, the emotions were practically shoved in his face.

Obi-Wan was about to ask who they were, but Boba perked up at his side. _“Buir!”_ He bolted towards the lead figure, dropping his stolen blaster.

“Bob’ika?” The figure’s empty hand left their side to reach out but the Force was suddenly shrill in his mind. 

He threw himself in front of Boba without thinking. His vision lit up in a riot of color from the bolts that soared over his head towards the ragged remains of Death Watch.

But as he moved the scream of danger only grew louder. It was too late to change course, and he tried to move his lightsaber quickly enough to catch the bolt, only realizing his mistake when he felt the resonance of something passing _through_ the blade and his side lit up in agony. Obi-Wan watched Boba try to run towards him as he fell to the ground in slow motion.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke with a start. He swallowed, and there was something around his neck. He panicked, and when he couldn't move his hands, his adrenaline-fueled use of the Force was enough to break the cuffs on the cot’s rails. Rolling out of it, he clawed at his throat, desperate to get whatever was there _off_. When the only thing that came off was flimsi and viscous blue fluid he froze.

Bacta patch.

The lighting around him was cold and sterile, and from all the equipment it was clear that he’d ended up in a medbay of some kind.

He looked down and noticed that he was no longer wearing his robes and that there were bandages wrapped around his chest and down his right arm and leg. Putting a hand to his ribs, he winced.

His head snapped up when he heard a door hiss open and he crouched instinctively.

"Woah, _jetii_! Calm down, I'm just the medic. Doctor Khovi, at your service." The armored figure had paused in the doorway, holding their hands up in a casual gesture of peace before taking their helmet off. They were a lightly blue-tinged humanoid with pointed ears, twi’lek and human features fairly evenly balanced. Their armor was a deep green with purple accents, much friendlier than the Death Watch standard. They continued, amusement clear in the Force. "Wanted to get you in a bacta tank but I think you just proved why that got vetoed."

Obi-Wan swallowed dryly. He wasn’t being met with hostility, so he could probably chance a conversation. "How long was I out?"

"Not long, considering your injuries." He leveled a look at the medic that made it obvious he’d noticed that they’d dodged the question and Khovi continued, a little hesitantly. “About three days. We had to perform surgery to get some of those slug pieces out of you.”

Shock, but he couldn’t focus on it. "I need to contact the Jedi."

“Not happening,” a new voice chimed in from the doorway. Before Obi-Wan could do more than open his mouth to argue, the figure walked in, continuing, “We’re in hyperspace.”

“When we leave hyperspace, then,” Obi-Wan replied easily. “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan,” he finished, since it would probably be rude not to introduce himself.

“Hm.” The new figure stopped beside the medic, and a smaller shape darted over to him.

“Boba?”

“Hi Obi-Wan!” The boy gave him a once-over. His own bruises had finally faded away, and Obi-Wan was so glad it hurt. “You look like a nexu chewed on you.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, leaning against the cot as his leg protested his earlier stunt. “I feel like it too. How are you?"

“Better. This is my _buir.”_ The boy gestured vaguely behind himself. The man was in almost full beskar’gam, holding his helmet at his side. He had the same coloring as Boba, the same dark hair and bronze skin. Even his eyes held the same suspicion Boba’d had when they met, along with a kind of wariness that told Obi-Wan he should watch his words. So he immediately put his foot in his mouth.

“Jango Fett?”

Boba’s buir’s head tilted, curious in the way of a large predator. “You know me?” His voice was deceptively mild.

“Well Death Watch called Boba ‘little _Mand’alor’_ but he obviously wasn’t Vizsla’s, and I _know_ he's not Satine Kryze’s son, so there was only one other person who fit the description.” Obi-Wan winced at his acerbic tone. Apparently pain loosened his tongue.

Boba looked over at him, eyes narrowed. “You knew?”

Grimacing from pain and the accusation both, Obi-Wan said, “I wasn’t trying to be misleading on purpose, Boba. I just didn’t think it was the best time to get into family history."

"Well you'll have plenty of time to explain yourself."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes internally at the obvious threat, settling back onto the cot fully. If they were going to have a conversation, he was going to sit back down.

“I’m sure. Although, if you don’t mind me asking a question first, how are the other children? And how did you find us? Not that I’m ungrateful, the timing was certainly fortuitous."

Boba seemed happy to chime in. “Everyone is ok! They were all off the ship when Kry’tsad ran away. And...I had a tracker," he finished hesitantly. He looked at Obi-Wan, presence dimming with nerves that the Jedi didn’t understand until the boy spoke again. “...Are you mad?”

“No. You did the right thing, hiding it,” Obi-Wan tried to put as much conviction in his words as he could manage, but Boba didn’t seem reassured. Obi-Wan changed tactics. “But really? ‘They found all mine?’ You little _sneak_ ,” he finished with a forced laugh. Boba looked up with a sly grin. 

“It exceeded range when you went to Cerea,” Fett elaborated. “We picked it up as far as Aduba-III and followed the second ship to you. And as charming as this is, I still need to know how you came to have the Darksaber.” Fett broke in, voice still cold, and Obi-Wan imagined that the man had a right to know what had happened after his child had been kidnapped. "And how a _jetii_ ended up with Death Watch in the first place."

Obi-Wan sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and wincing when he caught the broken cuff on his chin. Short version. He could do this. “I was on a mission with my Master. There were reports of kidnappings in the mid-rim that were becoming enough of a problem Judicial couldn't handle it. I was separated from my Master and two Death Watch members got the jump on me and took me to Vizsla's ship. Boba and the other children were already there, and eventually we were able to escape."

Boba cut in excitedly. "I got to use his lightsaber!"

Obi-Wan winced as he _felt_ the glare Fett was giving him. "They had me in a shock collar that was malfunctioning, my hands weren't steady enough to cut it off myself," he offered.

Fett inclined his head in the slightest concession. Obi-Wan suppressed the sigh of relief at the ease of tension in the room. "As far as the Darksaber goes, that should be obvious. I killed Tor Vizsla." The nasty smirk that twisted his lips was entirely unconscious. When he realized he was smiling, he cleared his throat and continued, "If you have it, keep it. I'm not interested in staying part of a terrorist group."

"Ah." For the first time, Obi-Wan felt something softer from Fett. _Amusement?_ "You'll have to get rid of it another way. It's not something you can just pawn off at the first opportunity."

“There’s no way I can just hand it to you?”

Definitely amusement.

“I’d like to say yes. But enough of those _hut’uun_ escaped that they’ll know who had it last, and if I show up with it, they’ll just assume I took it from you while you were unconscious. There’s rules about this sort of thing, you know.”

Fett’s droll delivery made Obi-Wan want to roll his eyes. Again. “But you’re their _Mand’alor._ ” _And Satine is their Duchess,_ the small, cynical part of his mind reminded him.

“Yes. And since they’ve decided to ignore that fact I _could_ continue to wage war until their pathetic faction is wiped from the face of the universe...” Fett paused until Boba made a face at him. "But what you said matched up with what Boba told me. I don't know how many members of Death Watch are just indoctrinated kids, and torching their bases to the ground would hurt them more than the true believers. I’m going to have to find a different way to solve this.”

Obi-Wan would have loved to point out that Fett seemed to be echoing Duchess Kryze, but decided he liked his nose unbroken. “I suppose so,” he allowed. “But I can’t help correct their misconceptions without checking in with my Master, or the next time he picks up my trail he might misread the situation.”

Fett shifted. “It wouldn’t be the first time you _jetiise_ did that, now would it?”

Obi-Wan flinched. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a threat. “Not quite. I can give you his comm code if you’d rather talk to him.”

Fett shook his head. “We’re already en-route to Corellia, we’re trying to find the guardians of the other kids before going all the way back to Mandalore. As soon as we land I’ll make sure we find you a comm.”

“And until then, everyone wants to know you’re ok,” Boba said.

“Well that depends on if I’m cleared from the medical bay or not.” Looking over at the doctor, Obi-Wan grinned. “Am I free to go?”

Khovi didn’t bother pretending it was in question. “Yeah, fine. Let me get you some more bacta and then I’ll set up with a sling, I don’t want you moving your arm around so soon after getting little bits of molten metal dug out of it.”

Boba’s eyes widened and Fett called his son over. “Why don’t you wait in the hall, then Kenobi can come catch up with all your friends.”

As soon as Boba left, Fett closed the door and took a few steps closer. “Thank you for protecting the children.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “It was nothing.”

Fett raised an eyebrow. “You took a slug for my son.”

“Boba saved my life by calling Death Watch honorless for shooting at me after I killed Vizsla,” he countered. “I owed him.”

“You would have done it anyways.” Fett sounded oddly sure about that.

“...Yes.”

“You’re not exactly how I remember _jetii_.”

Fett said it perfectly neutral, but it felt like a back-handed compliment. Bitter, he grit out, “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Hm.” The look Fett gave him was calculating, but Obi-Wan couldn’t tell how he’d measured up by the time the other man turned away. His heartbeat was a little fast, but then, he’d just done a lot of acrobatics after three days unconscious. It was probably fine. “I’ll leave him to you, Doc.”

“Oh, sure, at first it’s always ‘bust in and interrogate my patient,’ but when it gets personal it’s ‘I’ll leave him to you.’” Khovi’s tone was distinctly teasing, and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how to interpret that at all.

Fett left with a rude gesture over the shoulder. Obi-Wan could sympathize. There was nothing worse than arguing with a medic, because the medic outranked everyone.

He watched the door open wistfully until Khovi snapped their fingers in front of his face. “You’re a problem patient, aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan gave her his best innocent look. “Not at all.”

They snorted, re-dressing the bandages around his arm. “Right. You never skip a checkup, stay on bedrest for as long as they tell you to.” 

Their expression grew serious for a moment. “While you were out, we cycled all the kids through here. Boba had some injuries that shouldn’t have been healed as well as they were from the timeline they gave us, and I’m assuming that was you. The rest of the kids were all asking about you too. As far as I’m concerned, that’s your character reference. Don’t make me regret it.”

Obi-Wan nodded, surprised at the lump in his throat. He swallowed it down as he changed into the light clothes Khovi handed him behind a privacy screen, taking several deep breaths. He’d escaped. He was fine. He focused on his boots, something familiar to cling to for now.

They finished wrapping his arm in a sling and tying it behind his neck, then handed him a forearm crutch for his free arm and shooed him out of the cot. “Out you get. Walk slow, don’t let Boba or his friends get you worked up.” A pause. “Or Jango. He means well, but...”

Slightly overwhelmed, Obi-Wan managed a smile. “Jedi. Yeah. Thank you, Khovi.”

“No problem.” Then the door opened again, and he stepped outside.

Fett and Boba were waiting for him, along with another Mandalorian in grey and blue armor. Obi-Wan viciously suppressed the instinct to flinch at the color scheme, focusing on the yellow pauldrons decorated with the symbol of the True Mandalorians. 

Fett introduced him shortly. “This is Myles, he’ll help you navigate for now.”

Myles’ helmet was also conspicuously missing, and Obi-Wan gave him a small smile. He was another human brunette, but had slightly lighter skin and bright green eyes. “I thought Boba was my babysitter?”

“Myles’ll make sure you find some quarters, too—unless you feel like hanging out in the rec room the rest of the trip with the kids.”

“Myles, it’s so nice to meet you.” He pretended not to notice Boba pout at the implication he wouldn’t be available at all times.

Myles laughed. “I’d shake your hand but—” he gestured to Obi-Wan’s current state.

Obi-Wan gave his best one-shoulder shrug. “It is what it is. So Boba, where is everyone?”

* * *

Kenobi was patient with the children.

Watching from the doorway, Jango wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting from the _jetii_ when they’d arrived in the galley, but it wasn’t _this_. His forced calm demeanor had melted away as he greeted all of the children. Even the selonian who hadn’t said a word to any of the crew had let him place a gentle hand on their head.

But was it really a surprise? He’d done everything possible in the medbay to put Boba at ease, even though Jango could tell he’d wanted to push more on calling the other _jetiise._

If Kenobi hadn’t announced himself a Padawan, Jango would never have guessed it. He would have thought a Knight, even if he didn’t look that old.

Kenobi spoke softly and ignored it when small bodies collided with his injuries, though his ribs must have hurt. He’d gone through at least several of the Corellian hells to protect the children from what Boba told him. Threatening—killing—Tor Vizsla for his son had earned the _jetii_ some goodwill. How he was acting now almost made Jango want to trust him.

Still, it had been a long day for everyone, even the _jetii_. 

A look to Myles got a nod, and Jango shifted slightly. Every child that wasn’t directly behind Kenobi immediately looked up.

They’d figured out quickly that showing up in full _beskar’gam_ was a good way to end up with crying children. For the last few days, everyone who’d spent time with them had been in their undersuits or more casual clothes, and no one had worn their helmet since the night they’d gotten the children back.

“Alright everyone, Kenobi’s still recovering and needs his rest. You can visit him later, or he’ll come see you.”

There were some disappointed noises but everyone seemed to understand the implications of the crutch and arm sling. And the bacta patch that took up the left side of Kenobi’s neck that told Jango a story of its own.

Boba and Rheom helped Kenobi back to his feet, and the children trailed him over to Myles.

“Can we walk with him?” It was the Corellian boy, Dyn.

Myles looked over to him for help, but Jango only shrugged. It was up to Kenobi, really.

“I don’t see why not,” his second-in-command hedged.

“I’d appreciate the company,” the _jetii_ agreed.

The twelve children and two adults made an interesting honor guard for Kenobi as they walked through the ship.

Jango and Boba took up the rear, and Jango listened passively to Myles’ tour. “You’re really staying in my room, but we figured it would be better than sticking you in a crew cabin somewhere. You’ll need the extra room to move around in for now.”

He didn’t hear Kenobi’s response, instead simply enjoying walking with Boba.

They dropped the _jetii_ off in his temporary berth with much fanfare, and Jango led the way to Krrysuyal, one of Rheom’s _buir’e._

The other trick, they’d discovered, was letting one of their own children vouch for the adults the groups were left with. It meant Jango and Boba often had shadows, but Jango didn’t mind too much. It was good for Boba to make friends.

He split with Boba after Myles indicated he was taking the rest of the children back to their rooms.

* * *

The _jetii_ wasn’t _technically_ under guard. It just so happened that wherever he went, Jango would get an update a moment later. It seemed that if he wasn’t in Myles’ cabin, he was often shadowing the children.

He’d just gotten a notification that Kenobi was on the move.

It had only taken a day after leaving Cerea for Boba and the rest of his group to convince the others to pick up some self-defense. Jango and the other adults didn’t mind because it gave the children a way to burn some energy, and kept their minds off of the uncertainty facing them after they reached Corellia.

“Come in Myles.”

[Myles here.]

“Are all the _ad’e_ in the hold?”

[Yeah. Krrysuyal and Stast are down here too, along with Kenobi. He’s hanging off to the side with Sach’s _pru’ika_ so that she can join in the fun today.]

Jango wandered out of the pilot’s deck towards the hold, curious to see what everyone was up to.

By the time he’d reached the hold, however, the game had obviously changed.

Jango could see the shape of the warrior the _jetii verd’ika_ would grow into in the way he moved, in the way he already had an obvious awareness of his body.

Kenobi was holding a ridiculous pose, one foot planted on the ground and the other pulled up behind his back, almost touching his head. Jango swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

The wobbling children in front of him were trying to listen and balance at the same time as Kenobi gave them pointers.

“Very good Usa, I think you’ve got it! Ikem, bend your knee. No, on the planted foot. Relax a little.”

Jango turned to the corner where Myles was sitting with Krrysuyal and Stast. He was fairly sure his face was somewhere along the lines of “are you kidding me right now” because Myles grinned outright at him.

“They saw him stretching in the corner with _pru’ika_ and wanted to join in,” Stast said. The zabrak was watching the impromptu class with a small smile. “I was worried about Ikem, but she seems to be happy.”

Jango wasn’t fooled. He knows the second they’ve dropped the children somewhere safe— _and wasn’t Concord Dawn supposed to be safe? They’d gotten overconfident—_ Stast would be with him hunting down the _hut’uun Kry’tsad_ that had dared touch their _aliit._ Kenobi had given them a good head start.

He sat and watched Kenobi lead the children through more convoluted stretches whose only purpose seemed to be tiring them out, because when Krrysuyal growled out a meal time reminder they were swarmed with children.

It was easy to hang back, wave Boba on. Kenobi walked over, and he obviously wasn’t quite fully healed because Jango could see the tremor running through his limbs.

“How many children have you talked to that weren’t _jetii_?”

Kenobi snorted, rubbing both hands over his face. “Is it that obvious?”

Jango couldn’t help the wry smile. “No, but every time you’re about to give instructions you hesitate.”

Kenobi crossed his arms, slouching into a more casual position against the wall. “I keep forgetting the younglings aren’t Force-sensitive. I keep wanting to tell them to use the Force, but of course that’s useless advice to them.” The _jetii_ rolled his eyes at himself before continuing. “You didn’t come down here to see me struggle through some stretches though, so what’s going on?”

Actually, that was exactly what Jango had done. But it seemed like a petty reason, all of a sudden. “Spar?”

“Are you trying to take advantage of my poor condition, Fett? It’ll have you know that it’ll just be more embarrassing for you when you lose.”

“Those are fighting words for someone who’s still healing, Kenobi. You should be happy to use the Darksaber while you can, it’ll be mine soon.”

Kenobi laughed. “And here I thought you weren’t wearing your _beskar’gam_ because you didn’t want me to scratch it up. If you want to spar with sabers, you should have the Darksaber anyways. It doesn’t like me.”

“It doesn’t _like_ you?”

Kenobi shrugged. “It’s mostly an expression, but kyber retains some of the strong emotions and impressions of its users. A saber like the Darksaber has plenty of history that says anyone who’s not Mandalorian should be wary of picking it up. It worked with me fine for a short fight, but it’s got a strong personality.”

If what Obi-Wan said about kyber was true, Jango thought the Darksaber might work well for Kenobi in any circumstance. He was more Mandokarla than he gave himself credit for.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’ll have to get them from my quarters, first, and I think you need to eat as much as the children.” He saw Kenobi’s slight wince when he was reminded that he didn’t have his lightsaber but couldn’t make himself feel bad about it. Good with children or not, Kenobi was still a _jetii_ , and he couldn’t have him running around on his ship armed.

He left the cold, durasteel hold with Kenobi, trying to find some of the earlier warmth that had come much easier than it should have.

In his opinion, the kicked tooka look was just pushing it.

* * *

The next day, he found Kenobi with the children in a language lesson. Hearing Mando’a fall from the _jetii’s_ lips with ease was another shock that he shot Myles a dirty look for. His second still just grinned.

Kenobi was talking quietly to Ammel, who just shook their head. Kosuno hovered silently at their sibling’s shoulder, murmuring something too quiet for Jango to hear.

They were spread through the galley, having a lesson about food, apparently. Jango approved. It was an easy topic to tailor to any skill level, and included a lot of easy adjacent words.

Jango picked up a conversation with Atu, pointing out various appliances and asking what they were. Soon enough, the kids were all distracted with food, and Jango found a seat with Myles and Kenobi.

“So did I miss stretching again this morning?”

Kenobi and Myles both laughed, but it was Kenobi who answered. “No, just a game of ‘catch the mouse droid.’ We gave up on anything productive when _pru’ika_ started chasing them into the maintenance shafts.”

Well, it couldn’t have been too stressful for the chaperones if it never made Jango’s comm.

Krrysuyal came in to collect the younger children for a nap, but as had happened the last few days, everyone went. The younger children wouldn’t sleep unless the older ones were there, keeping watch—or just napping with them.

“So Kenobi. Did you want to make good on your claims from yesterday? I brought the sabers today—if you’re feeling up for a spar.” 

He was only a little surprised when Kenobi agreed. He’d noticed that the sling had come off for stretches, and hadn’t made a reappearance.

They made their way down to the hold, where Jango handed Kenobi the bag that held both sabers.

He took the Darksaber when Kenobi offered it with a grin. “Same reasoning as yesterday.”

He was possibly the furthest from Force-sensitive it was possible to be, but he still felt a kick as his fingers closed around the hilt. It was like taking the first sip of good caff, as familiar as a kata.

“Well it definitely likes me.”

“I’m not surprised,” Kenobi muttered. Jango wasn’t sure if he’d been meant to hear it or not.

“But if you think it’ll put you at a disadvantage, maybe you can just show me a kata.”

“I think I can manage that.” Kenobi grinned at him, then fell into the opening pose of—something. “Copy me, we’ll go through this one together.”

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to fall into a rapport with the _jetii_. After their initial “spar,” Jango let Obi-Wan keep his lightsaber—he still had the Darksaber after all. Obi-Wan was smart and observant, and whenever they stumbled onto touchy subjects there always seemed to be a child nearby to defuse the situation.

But there was no audience that could prevent Jango from fucking things up if he really tried.

It was an eight-day jump to Corellia. Kenobi had been awake for five, and Jango managed to be civil for four.

"Boba mentioned that Vizsla wanted to wait to execute you on Concordia."

To Jango's surprise, Obi-Wan snorted. " _That_ was petty. It was personal. I was on a mission to Mandalore space a few years ago, and my Master and I kept Duchess Kryze out of his hands for a year. He wanted his personal revenge, otherwise I'm not sure he would have been willing to risk bringing the Jedi down on him like that."

Anger filled Jango at the mention of the Keldavan _auretiise_. “And you didn’t think to tell me that before?”

“I don’t see why it’s relevant,” Obi-Wan replied stiffly.

“It’s your _duty_ to tell me anything that could impact this mission!”

 _“I’m not a Mandalorian!”_

Jango had almost forgotten. 

Dressed in Mando fashion, helping the children with the language, it had been easy to overlook that Obi-Wan was only passing through. Obi-Wan stared at him and Jango reeled internally but Obi-Wan continued.

Still colder than he had been before, he hissed, "I’m not Mandalorian, and you can’t command me to do _anything_." Jango grit his teeth to prevent himself from saying something he would regret later as Obi-Wan turned and walked away.

He almost went to follow when he felt a small hand grip his own. Looking down, Boba was already shaking his head. "Don’t talk to him yet. He’s angry about it because you are.”

Jango blinked, taken aback. "When did you get so smart, Bob'ika?"

His son flashed him a cheeky smile that broke his serious expression and made him look his age again. "I've always been this smart. I just had a head start with Obi-Wan."

As proud as he was of Boba—Obi-Wan’s stark rejection left something sitting wrong in Jango’s chest.

* * *

Corellia was civilized enough that the word of a Jedi was enough to get Judicial to back off on kidnapping charges against the _Haat Mando’ade._ Obi-Wan appreciated that, and he was pretty sure Fett did too. He’d been cooler since Obi-Wan’s outburst on the ship—not that Obi-Wan blamed him. It was his fault for blowing up so spectacularly. He was pretty sure even the children had noticed how different they acted now. 

The Mand’alor’s appreciation now came in the form of finding a comm right after delivering the kids to someone Fett apparently trusted enough to leave them with, and Obi-Wan’s first call was to Judicial to give a brief overview of the situation and pass along the number of the CorSec agent they’d spoken with.

With Fett’s blessing, his second call was to his Master.

[Obi-Wan, are you okay? After we lost contact I was worried.]

Obi-Wan ignored the snort he heard from the side. He smiled easily, glad to hear his Master's voice again. The understatement was as much a joke as Qui-Gon playing to the assumption of uncaring Jedi. "I'm fine. Fett was kind enough only to threaten me a little, and even provided medical attention."

Myles turned his laugh into a choked off cough, while Obi-Wan could practically feel Jango glaring a hole through his helmet. The Mand’alor cut in with a curt “Your boy tried to deflect a slugthrower with a lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan flushed. “I couldn’t tell what it was!”

Qui-Gon chuckled through the holo. [Well I’m glad to see you whole, my Padawan.]

Obi-Wan’s conversation was cut short when he was called by one of the CorSec agents to say goodbye to Dyn, whose relatives set a new record through Corellia’s traffic to get him. When he returned, Jango and his Master were arguing, although Qui-Gon broke off long enough to greet him again.

[Mand’alor Fett and I are finding a suitable neutral ground.]

“I'm sure your diplomatic expertise will see you through such hardship, my Master," he said blithely, hiding his grin.

Jango motioned for him to wrap it up, twirling a finger as he stretched out towards the holoprojector. Obi-Wan glanced at him and nodded before turning back to Qui-Gon. "As much as I’ve enjoyed talking to you, I must be going. I look forward to seeing you again soon." His smile was matched by Qui-Gon and he inclined his head in a short bow before Myles took his elbow and they left the room.

He could hear Jango’s voice as the door closed and he was reluctantly amused as he imagined the argument disguised as a negotiation that was happening behind the door. He didn’t have much time to picture it, however, as Myles spoke up.

“You didn’t tell your Master the whole situation.”

Obi-Wan scoffed lightly. “I imagine he’ll hear it from Mand’alor Fett. I can’t imagine how that conversation is going to go, considering I’m now technically the leader of an organization recognized by the Republic Senate as a terrorist group.”

Myles laughed. “I’ll get the recording somehow.”

“Please. I desperately want to see Qui-Gon’s reaction.”

“We’ll be here a few more days until all the kids get picked up, how long do you think it’ll take them both to decide on Corellia?”

“I’d give it another hour, easy. Maybe a few more if Mand’alor Fett remembers there’s a Jedi Temple here.”

* * *

Qui-Gon’s embrace was a warm wash of relief over Obi-Wan and he sank into his Master’s arms.

To his surprise, when he was pushed to arm’s length and examined head to toe, Qui-Gon looked much more worn than he was expecting.

“Master?”

Qui-Gon sighed. “It’s been a long month, Obi-Wan. But not nearly so rough as yours.” His Master’s fingers stroked lightly at the shortened end of his braid and suddenly it was all Obi-Wan could do not to break down in tears. He purposefully hadn’t been thinking about it as much as possible, but Qui-Gon’s gentle touch was undoing a month’s worth of emotional suppression.

“It’s good to be back, Master.”

“And it’s good to have you back.” Qui-Gon pushed him back again, turning him with a nudge. “I believe you have some goodbyes to get through.”

Obi-Wan walked back over to Jango, Myles, and their children, both new and old. Sach and the still-mute selonian had stayed unclaimed, but had grown on Myles. He’d offered to take them in until they could find out what happened to their guardians and Sach had eagerly agreed for both of them.

Goodbyes to the children first.

He kneeled, finally healed enough that his leg could bend without protest, and smiled at Sach. She launched herself at him and squeezed as tightly as he imagined she was capable of. “I’m gonna miss you, Obi.”

“And I’ll miss you, Sach. But I think you’re going to be alright, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her grin was a little teary, but Obi-Wan could tell she really was happy with Myles.

Her selonian shadow crept forward, holding out one hand for him to squeeze gently. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Keep looking out for Sach for me, ok?”

They nodded firmly, and allowed him to brush the top of their head briefly before moving closer to Sach.

He shifted until he could face Boba more easily. The older boy was frowning. “Don’t get shot again.”

Obi-Wan huffed. “It’s not like I _want_ to get shot. I’ll _try_ to avoid it, how’s that?”

Boba smiled. “Good enough, I guess.” Then he wrapped Obi-Wan in a hug. “Bye, Obi-Wan.”

“ _Ret’urcye mhi_ , Boba.”

A pointed look made Boba release him so he could stand and clasp arms with Myles. “Thank you for your help.”

The Mandalorian shook his head. “You did most of the heavy lifting.”

“Ah, but it would have been a disaster at the end without you. Keep up the good timing.”

“I’ll make sure we’re always on hand for dramatic rescues.”

Jango was last. Obi-Wan hesitated between an arm clasp and a brief hug, but to his surprise, Jango tugged him close.

“ _K’oyacyi_ , Kenobi.” He probably didn’t mean it the way Obi-Wan wanted him to. Especially after he’d practically spit on the hand he’d been holding out. Coming back alive was practically a given, for him.

“I’ll try, Fett. Keep Boba out of trouble, okay?”

“If he lets me.” Jango released him from the hug, but kept hold of his right arm. His other hand was holding the Darksaber and a slip of flimsi. “We never actually fought. And the other...if you need it.”

Obi-Wan looked down at the comm code, torn. Still, he took it and slipped it in a pocket. “Thank you.” He turned back to Qui-Gon, and forced himself not to look back.

* * *

The Jedi-issue shuttle was a comfort in a way Obi-Wan hadn’t been expecting. Clean and utilitarian, the particular tang of cleaning chemicals that catered to beings with sensitive olfactory senses, and of course, like wherever Qui-Gon spent any significant amount of time, the faint smell of tea.

He followed his Master into the small multipurpose room standard in the newer shuttles. For this mission, apparently it had been converted into a comm center. Obi-Wan heard the _whoosh_ of the door closing on the dark room, and then blue holograms filled the air. He found himself looking at Masters Yoda, Windu, and Mundi, and he bowed on instinct.

As he straightened back up, Master Windu spoke. "This is a secure line. Your Master made it clear it would be unlikely for a debrief on Coruscant to happen, so we ensured he would be prepared."

Obi-Wan nodded to show he understood, and Yoda spoke up. “A welcome surprise to speak with you, it is, Padawan Kenobi. Worried, your Master was when you lost contact with him.”

 _I would have hoped so._ The caustic thought was new. The comment stung more coming from the Council than it had from Jango, somehow.

“Discovered, have you, where the children went?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and repeated the tale of the last month from his perspective. The Council was silent until he finished, and then he heard someone out-of-frame speak up. The slightly modulated sound tipped him off to Master Koon. “We’re very glad to hear of your success, even if it was through...unconventional means.”

It was hard to keep a straight face, but Obi-Wan managed it. “Thank you, Master. It certainly was not the way I’d imagined my mission going.”

Behind him, Qui-Gon snorted lightly. No, being kidnapped and then accidentally taking leadership of a Mandalorian death cult was _not_ something he’d seen coming.

“Time it is, to return to Coruscant. For both of you,” Yoda added pointedly.

“Masters, they need help! Death Watch is targeting the children from Fett’s followers—and we owe it to them after what happened on Galidraan.”

“Too much time with Fett, you have spent, young Kenobi. The ruler of Mandalore, Duchess Kryze is.”

He barely bit down the noise of frustration he wanted to make but he knew Master Yoda at least had caught onto it. He wasn’t done arguing yet though. “It’s not that.” _Lie._ “I believe there is more at stake than a simple squabble about succession.” _Truth._ “If Death Watch continues to exist, they _will_ continue abducting children. They’ve sworn to continue the ways of the original Mandalorians—Empire included.” _Also truth._

“Do you honestly believe Death Watch to be a threat? It’s a small extremist group. The more likely option is that your attachment to the Duchess is clouding your vision.” The question came from off-screen, so he didn’t bother turning towards whoever had asked it.

He shook his head. “Duchess Kryze is a friend, I’ll admit. But the danger she faces is larger than she knows.”

“Join Death Watch, you think the True Mandalorians would?”

It was even harder to hold back the snort. “No. Fett would sooner ally himself with Hutts. Vizsla tried to get the True Mandalorians wiped out—using the Jedi, I might add. And recently kidnapped his son. Even if Tor Vizsla is dead, those bridges are burned.”

“Then what is the dilemma?” Master Koon sounded honestly curious, not dismissive, which was the only reason Obi-Wan could stop himself from bristling.

“Since Death Watch doesn’t answer to Fett, it leaves them as a loose end. I’m certainly not an ideal figurehead for them, and I can only relinquish leadership if someone takes the Darksaber from me.”

“Didn’t Fett beat you, therefore taking control of the group?”

Obi-Wan exchanged a glance with his Master before he shook his head again, trying to simplify Mandadorian tradition to something the Council would understand. “I wish it were that simple, but as Fett wasn’t able to take the Death Watch members on Vizsla’s ship into custody, there are people who will tell the rest of Death Watch that I’m the person holding the Darksaber. Fett explained it better, but it’s not as simple as _giving_ him the Darksaber. It has a long history, even tradition, of changing hands violently. As you’ve mentioned, Death Watch is an extremist group and has separate bases, and without word from his cousin, Pre Vizsla is still likely holding it together. It’s an unstable situation.”

There was a moment of pensive silence. He continued, “If Death Watch believes I’m hiding on Coruscant, any bargaining power I have is weakened. They won’t let the lack of the Darksaber stop them for long.”

Master Windu’s voice was sharp when he spoke up.

“Padawan Kenobi, your mission has finished with the discovery of who was behind the kidnappings. It was good of Fett’s people to get the children back to Republic space, and now it’s time for you to come back. We understand that it’s a unique situation, but then again, most missions are.” 

A few Council members chuckled quietly out of the projection and Obi-Wan tried not to be obvious about gritting his teeth.

“I understand, Masters.”

"Expecting you back on Coruscant, we are," Yoda finished.

Qui-Gon bowed and Obi-Wan followed suit.

"Force willing, Master."

Qui-Gon shut off the comm without looking, frowning at Obi-Wan and crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s something else about this situation that’s bothering you, isn’t there?”

No point hiding it. “Yes, Master.”

“And?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t but smile at his Master’s impatience. With planetary leaders and senators, the man was a brick wall, but one vague statement from his Padawan and all his patience disappeared. He and Obi-Wan had made an art form of conversations carried out entirely in leading statements and half-truths.

“The Senate is not taking the situation as seriously as I believe it should. Death Watch has proven to be an organization that is hard to kill, and every time focus is taken away from them they go to ground and rebuild. Even Satine hasn’t given enough credit to their activity, though she’s been on Coruscant the last few years.”

“And what activity are you talking about?"

"I'm not entirely sure,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Just a feeling, at the moment.”

“Ah.” Qui-Gon flipped the lights back on in the comm room with a flick of his hand, letting the door slide open at the same time. “So we’ll go back to Coruscant for now to satisfy our esteemed Council...and possibly catch up with the Duchess for a lead.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head to hide his laughter. “Yes, I suppose that would work.”

* * *

Jedi shuttles weren’t exactly luxurious, but there was a fresher and a bunk, so Obi-Wan wouldn’t complain. He considered a water shower, but considering his bandages, settled for the sonic. As he went to undress, several datachips fell from his boot.

_Oh._

There was still a sense of urgency to them. Something that told him to take a closer look. Shower forgotten, he found a datapad in the drawers at the head of the bed, plugging one in. Once he could see his options in basic, it was much easier to break the coding protecting the contents.

It was still nothing that interesting. Base locations and supplies, useful, yes, but nothing that satisfied the feeling he had.

He picked the next chit at random.

It had a much more aggressive security system, and Obi-Wan swore as he wrestled with the coding. “Padawan?” 

“Hold on, Master.” He finally broke through and—“Master!”

* * *

“There’s a line of correspondence with the Banking Clans. Nothing Tor had agreed to yet, but if Fett or I aren't able to reconcile Death Watch with his people, their next leader may not be as hesitant to get in bed with the Banking Clans, Trade Federation, or both."

His Master had a far-off look in his eyes that spoke something of puzzles and unseen threads. "That _is_ concerning. They're consolidating quite a bit of power in the outer rim, and have dodged every attempt the Senate has made to audit their organizations." Qui-Gon paused, then said, “Do you think Duchess Kryze would have any useful information? Historically, she has rejected several overtures from the Trade Federation for the use of the beskar mines in the system.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, copying Qui-Gon’s posture. “Satine is kept off of Mandalore by pressure from both Death Watch _and_ the Haat Mando’ade _._ She wouldn’t be able to share information with her people there even if they had anything.”

“What about Fett’s people? They’re already fighting Death Watch.”

This time, Obi-Wan couldn’t stop himself from making a face. "The Senate won't give the Haat Mando'ade any aid because after the Excision they backed Kalevela when they offered to support Mandalore as a colony. Jango wouldn’t accept help from the Senate, and Satine would never allow another Mandalorian faction to do her work for her. She knows how that would make her look to the rest of them. I understand she still wants to return to Mandalore, but she’s in a precarious position. Accepting outside help to re-establish her rule would be a turning point for her. It’s the worst kind of tangle.”

His Master hummed, then conceded the point with a tilt of his head. “So what should we do, my young Padawan? The Council wishes us to return to Coruscant with all haste."

Obi-Wan could practically hear the _“but”_ at the end of the sentence. He was privately vindicated when his Master continued, "However, I believe it would be prudent to continue the mission and investigate Death Watch’s possible ties to the Banking Clan and Trade Federation."

“Master.” Obi-Wan tried to say it seriously, but he knew the corner of his mouth gave him away.

* * *

When he met the rest of the Death Watch, Obi-Wan was almost glad his braid was gone. He didn’t need anything that would expose his inexperience to anyone who knew what it meant.

His ship was a small junker, easily acquired by two Jedi in a hurry to get him to Concordia.

Approaching the settlement had been easy too. Death Watch wanted the Darksaber back, of course they’d let him in. Technically, they had to.

His welcoming party were several dozen drawn blasters and scowls, in the Force if not face-to-face. As predicted, this main group was led by a young blond man whose dark gray and blue armor only stood apart from the rest because of the cape. Pre Vizsla. Obi-Wan wanted to roll his eyes. Instead, he walked down the ramp, hand resting on the Darksaber clipped to his belt.

“Clan Vizsla will never follow you!” The declaration rang through the encampment, calling attention to the spectacle about to take place.

Obi-Wan did his best to shrug nonchalantly. “Your cousin lost the Darksaber to me, and running away now only makes your clan look like _hut’uun_ who only care about their personal standing, not Mandalore.”

The look Pre gave him said he knew exactly what Obi-Wan was doing, but unfortunately for him, he’d chosen to make the argument public.

“You were protecting the Duchess not too long ago. We can see that this is the Republic’s latest gambit to gain control of Mandalore on behalf of their precious Duchess.”

“And some of Death Watch were killing Jedi not too long ago,” Obi-Wan countered easily. “Protecting Satine Kryze was as much a job for me as any bounty you all have taken. This has nothing to do with the Republic. Though I can’t stop you from believing what you want to.” He took the Darksaber off his belt. “Either challenge me or fall in line. If Death Watch is about the strongest leading the pack, prove you have what it takes.”

Everyone stared at Pre. The young man sneered, but Obi-Wan could feel his uncertainty.

 _“Par kote, jetii._ If you even believe in that,” Pre scoffed. He jammed his helmet on, waiting.

 _“Par Mandalore, Kyr’tsad.” If you believe in_ that. He shoved the instinctive anger down. Death Watch was a delusional cult that thought strength was measured by body count. They were no better than any other crime syndicate or gang he’d come across, but this one he had a chance of changing. Or dismantling. Depended on how annoying they were planning to be.

Vizsla pulled out his blasters and Obi-Wan twirled the sabers in his hands. He was still a Jedi, and he would not strike first. Even if he was technically inciting the fight.

The newest false Mand’alor was off with the ignition of his jetpack, raining down fire on Obi-Wan from the air.

It was simple to dodge or reflect the bolts, and Obi-Wan hesitated to bring the Force into their fight overtly. The last thing he needed was to be accused of trickery.

His distraction cost him as he went to deflect and the Force screamed at him, giving him just enough time to skip back as Pre ignited a _fucking flamethrower_ in his face. He couldn’t hold back the snarl but managed to keep any noises of pain locked away. His signed clothes are the worst casualty, and that’s more a stroke of luck than any skill.

He needed to focus.

Pre was _still_ in the air, but Obi-Wan saw him go for the gauntlet again. A whipcord shot out and he went to cut it but the instant his blue blade made contact, it sputtered and died. He’s barely fast enough to keep the Darksaber from hitting it too.

“We’re _Mandalorians!_ We _fight jetii_ scum, we don’t bow down to them!”

Obi-Wan was forced to scramble as Pre flailed the whipcord around, knowing that if he got pinned it was likely over for him.

Pre started shooting again with his off hand, and Obi-Wan wove through the metal and plasma until he had the perfect moment.

He angled the Darksaber to reflect a bolt at Pre’s jetpack as the Mandalorian swung around to get a new angle and one of the fuel tanks exploded. Vizsla spun through the air before creating a new trough in the ground. Obi-Wan held his guard a moment before it was clear Vizsla was done. 

In the Force, Obi-Wan could tell that the man was only unconscious, but Kryze ran over in panic.

Pre wore down his patience more than his stamina, and for all that they were close in age, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think of his display as a tantrum.

Kryze’s relief when she found his pulse was entirely genuine, and Obi-Wan wondered how she could care so much about the man that was leading the movement trying to kill her sister. Kryze stood tall, still overflowing with rage.

“Mandalore will never follow an outsider!”

He was about to respond when a new-but-familiar presence entered his awareness.

“Would you call me an outsider?”

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to turn around, watching Bo-Katan try to form a response.

“I believe that belongs to me.” _Behind him behind him—_ if Jango weren’t wearing a helmet it would have been right in his ear. Obi-Wan took one step forwards before turning to face him.

They stared at each other for a long moment. 

For a moment, Obi-Wan was overjoyed. _Myles kept his promise._ Then Obi-Wan thought back to the medbay, then their goodbye. _“I had a tracker.”_

Rage, deep and unending, like a wellspring in his chest consumed him. He could tell the moment Jango knew he’d put the pieces together, because he stood a little taller, drew back just a fraction. Obi-Wan wasn’t looking at Jango anymore.

He’d never felt threatened by Jango after their initial meeting, and even then he’d been angry more than anything.

This time there was no barrier between him and the Mand’alor.

He’d made their fight personal.

Unlike the fight with Vizsla, Obi-Wan made the first move, and unlike Vizsla, he wasn’t afraid to get up close.

It was a good thing that Jango was _fast,_ slipping around Obi-Wan and tripping him on the way. 

Obi-Wan spun with the small kick, blue saber flickering back to life when he ignited it, but Jango was already airborne.

Only for a second, long enough to get out of Obi-Wan’s reach.

A shot grazed his leg and there was a sensation like a bad holoconnection looks—indistinct and fuzzy. _Stun charges._

He should have been grateful. 

He wasn’t.

Using the Force to leap high enough to reach, he kicked out and Jango went tumbling to the ground, just like Pre.

He followed Jango down and that was his mistake because as soon as he was in grabbing range Jango wrested his foot to the side and Obi-Wan went down in a heap.

And he must have landed wrong because his arm didn’t normally _snap_ like that. He still called the nearest lightsaber to hand except Jango found the other one.

Four days of training or not, it was enough for Jango to have learned how _Obi-Wan_ moved because he’d already stepped in close and ignited the blue saber under his chin.

Obi-Wan breathed. 

In. 

“Solah.”

Jango lowered the blade, and Obi-Wan ducked his head. He extinguished the Darksaber, holding the hilt out to Jango.

As angry as he still was, their performance served a purpose, too.

He knelt, crossing his good arm over his chest. _Are you still happy you taught me about Mandalorian history, Satine?_ the tiny hysterical part of his brain asked. “ _Mand’alor_.”

Around them, the sound of blasters being dropped told Obi-Wan that it had worked.

Jango’s hand invaded his view. “C’mon, Kenobi.”

He’d really like to ignore the hand. But his adrenaline was subsiding, and now he _really_ couldn’t feel his leg, not to mention his arm, so he took it. Jango hauled him to his feet and steadied him when he swayed.

Jango led him back to the ship, and the only reason Obi-Wan didn’t protest was because he didn’t want to encourage Death Watch. He did talk on the way there, however. “It’s time for me to go back to the Jedi. Qui-Gon only has a day before he gets there and _maybe_ two before they realize I’m not with him.”

“You have a broken arm, Kenobi.”

So it was back to Kenobi. “I’m fine. It’s a long flight back to Coruscant, I can heal it on the way.”

“At least let Khovi set it before you go—“

“You _used me,_ Jango.”

“No, Obi-Wan, I _promise_ I didn’t _._ ”

“You followed me to Concordia to challenge Pre and I just got there first, right?”

“Are you _listening_ to me? I was _worried—“_

“I’ll go to Khovi. But don’t tell me I was anything more than a tool! I can live with that, but don’t make me think differently, not when it’s a false hope.”

Before Jango could answer, Khovi appeared and they both straightened up, equally wary of the lecture they were about to receive.

“You just got done healing! Have some self-preservation and _stop picking fights you can’t win.”_

A glance.

“Sorry, this one couldn’t really be avoided.”

* * *

It was the most miserable flight he’d ever had. With one arm next to useless he wasn’t able to navigate out of atmo as smoothly as he was used to, further jostling his injury. Still. Bacta and a nine-day healing trance would do wonders.

He’d been lucky. Jango hadn’t been able to give him any more false hope, instead called away to deal with the absorption of Death Watch into the Haat Mando’ade. Obi-Wan didn’t envy him that task.

He asked the droid he’d bought to alert him 30 minutes from hyperspace revision and settled back into his seat to begin a healing trance.

* * *

Qui-Gon was there to meet him at the landing platform. That wasn’t odd. What was, was the way he hurried to the ramp, not waiting for Obi-Wan to disembark before taking his arm. “Put your hood up, Padawan. We’re going to Dex’s.”

“Master?” _I just got back._

Qui-gon smiled sadly at him from the entryway. “I don’t believe so, not anymore.”

Obi-Wan froze. “What do you mean?”

His Master made a face. “I’ll explain at Dex’s. I already have a speeder, come along now Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan felt like he was in a haze as Qui-Gon led him to the standard-issue speeder and took off.

He was still silent when Qui-Gon steered him into Dex’s Diner, asking the service droid on duty for a quiet booth.

The buzz of the scrambler hidden under the table hardly registered.

The scent of food finally shook the cobwebs from his brain. He looked up to see Qui-Gon smiling sadly at him.

“Certain elements in the Senate have expressed concern over your recent actions. They've demanded you face trial." Qui-Gon sighed. "No matter our intentions, they are arguing that we technically helped delegitimize a Republic-sanctioned government by aiding a known terrorist organization."

"... _What_?" There was nothing else _to_ say to that. There were so many things wrong with that statement he didn't even know where to _start_.

"And to top it all off, someone somehow ‘discovered’ footage from your fight with Pre Vizsla. The Council suspects it's been tampered with, but it paints a very unflattering picture and the Senate refuses to allow, and I quote, ‘the Jedi from covering up more of their mistakes with a magical internal investigation.’"

Shocked silence fell again as Obi-Wan tried to comprehend what his Master was saying. Qui-Gon didn't give him a chance to brood, clapping his hands together in forced cheer. "So, my young friend, it's time to get you off Coruscant."

Was it his head or the planet that was spinning?

“I have every hope that this will be temporary,” Qui-Gon was _still talking._ “But I think our experiences would point to this being, at the very least, difficult.”

Obi-Wan choked on a laugh. “I think you’re right.” Groaning, he let his head hit the table lightly. “Why is it always Mandalorians?”

Surprisingly, Qui-Gon didn’t take his poor joke in stride, a thoughtful expression crossing his Master’s face. “That might be an excellent place to start. It seems to be a common affliction of our lineage, after all. If my former Master had been present at Galidraan, who knows what might have happened.”

Qui-Gon reached across the table to take Obi-Wan’s hands in his own. It was shocking enough he fell out of his thoughts, giving Qui-Gon a wide-eyed look that must have seemed practically bemused.

“The Senate has tried to interfere with Jedi matters before, and they only win sometimes.”

Obi-Wan laughed with no humor. “If they’re pushing this much now, they must be sure of their victory. What I can’t imagine is _why._ Jedi are often put in complicated positions on missions, what’s so different about this one?”

Even as he says it, he knows. A glance up at Qui-Gon says he knows it too. “I’ll be showing the Council the preliminary conversations between Vizsla and Death Watch. But you know as well as I that the Senate is not so flexible in thought.”

 _And if the Council was the most malleable piece on the board…_ Obi-Wan nodded. “I really do, Master.”

“I’ve already been in touch with my old Master. Although he has had his disagreements with me in the past, he’s agreed that our issues should stay between us, and he’s offered to let you stay on Serenno. With the two of you working together, you might be able to clear your name faster than us poor saps stuck on Coruscant.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Maybe. But for now, I just need a ship.”

* * *

"Buir!"

“What is it, Boba?”

“Obi-Wan’s on the comm.” There was none of the excitement Jango would expect Boba to have talking to his favorite _jetii_ , and he hurried over, worried despite himself.

Obi-Wan looked horrible. His hair was disheveled and it was obvious he wasn’t wearing Jedi robes.

“What happened, _jet’ika_?” He’d wince at the term of endearment, but it looked like it had slipped past Obi-Wan entirely. That wasn’t a promising sign.

[I've been declared a terrorist. The Republic put out a warrant for my arrest, and have forbidden the Jedi from getting involved.]

Jango wasn’t often shocked, but Obi-Wan’s quiet defeat pushed him over the edge. It was heartbreaking to see the Jedi who’d been full of life and humor so beaten down. He was about to offer to murder whoever was responsible, but Obi-Wan started talking again.

[Qui-Gon gave me the comm number of his old Master, but…] he watched Obi-Wan hesitate.

"But?" His heart was in his throat as he prompted Obi-Wan to continue.

[I was wondering if you’d be willing to meet up.] The Jedi laughed awkwardly, as if trying to downplay his desperation.

"Of course. Where are you? Boba and I will come pick you up.”

[No, it’s ok. I’m already on Corellia, it’s a bit of a trek for you. I’ll probably just show up in a week or so.]

Jango wanted to argue but he knew that Obi-Wan would have to make up his own mind. If he wanted the _jetii_ to stay, it would have to be on Obi-Wan’s decision. He’d pushed too far, too hard, and had a striking moment of sympathy for the Kalevalan Duchess. It really was too easy to love Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Okay. Okay, Boba and I will wait for you. We’re at Outland.” He bit back the question he wanted to ask. It wasn’t for a comm.

[Tell Boba I’ll be there soon. Here’s my transponder,] Obi-Wan said with a weak smile before cutting the call.

Even Roz’s hospitality didn’t help make the week pass any faster. He’d asked her to keep an eye out for Obi-Wan’s ship, and she promised him he’d be the first to know. Boba was running around with Sach and _pru’ika_ , causing general mayhem in an obvious attempt to keep his mind off of Obi-Wan’s imminent arrival. Myles had promised to keep an eye on them, so Jango could be free to worry about what kind of condition Obi-Wan would be in when he arrived.

* * *

Just as Roz promised, she let Jango know the instant a ship with Obi-Wan’s transponder asked for clearance. She gave him the berth next to Jango, so he collected Boba and almost ran down to the docking bay.

Obi-Wan appeared from the ship’s ramp. Jango would never tell him, but he thought the simple spacer's outfit suited him much better than the beige and brown robes ever had. 

He looked tired. The spark that had been there, even beaten in the medbay after captivity with Death Watch was gone, and the former Jedi’s eyes flitted around the landing platform like he was nervous.

Jango didn't get the chance to call a greeting before Boba was running towards the other.

Opening his arms on reflex, Obi-Wan caught the excited boy in a hug. “Hello to you too!” There was finally a smile on his face as he carried Boba back to his father.

Obi-Wan still had to look down at Jango when the Mandalorian was wearing boots, but Jango was still struck by how much _smaller_ he seemed. He was looking at Jango with an oddly sheepish expression, still holding Boba like the boy wasn’t almost a teenager.

“I hope I’m not imposing.”

Jango wanted to laugh. Instead, he managed a “Not at all” that sounded sincere enough. He cleared his throat. “Well, let’s get going.”

It felt cowardly to turn his back to lead Obi-Wan up the ramp into the Firespray, but Obi-Wan was kind enough to not so much as raise an eyebrow at his quick retreat. He set Boba down to let him strap in before following Jango into the cockpit.

He stood awkwardly in the doorframe, hovering at Jango’s back for a moment before Jango turned around. “Obi-Wan?” _Shit._ He hadn't meant to sound so worried.

The lost expression the _jetii_ —former _jetii_?—had disappeared as he tried to give Jango a smile. “I’m fine, Jango.”

“You said that after I laid you out on Concordia, too. I don’t think it’s the defense you think it is,” Jango pointed out wryly.

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment before he crossed his arms over his chest and ducked his head.

“I—well, I’d hoped you let me come with you because—never mind.” He made to back out of the cockpit, but Jango grabbed his arm.

 _“Jet’ika.”_ Jango paused, took a deep breath.“I know we ended...poorly...last time. I know I have some fault in that. But if you’re willing to overlook my meddling, I’d like to make it up to you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened and he leaned in towards Jango. “Jango?”

“I gave you my comm because I was hoping you’d call—but I didn’t want to take the risk that you’d never have the chance to. I knew you were going to keep investigating _Kyr’tsad_ , and when I saw you go to Concordia I panicked.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I should have known you weren’t in any danger from those _di’kute._ But I didn’t tell you any of that. So everything that happened afterwards was my fault.”

He pulled his head up from Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I was too eager and instead of telling you how I felt and working from there, I went even further.”

“And I just kept drawing back,” Obi-Wan said. “That sounds probable.” He had a small smile on his face, but it looked real so Jango would take it.

“So what should we do about it?” He shifted until he was standing on the base of his chair, just high enough to let him meet Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“I think we should probably meet in the middle,” the maybe-former-Jedi said, and leaned in.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys enjoyed reading this! it's been through appx. 20 rewrites as i got frustrated with pacing. it's still not perfect, but it's as good as i'm gonna get it.
> 
> EVERYONE TAKE FIVE MINUTES TO LOOK AT THE ART. NOW GO BACK AND DO IT AGAIN.
> 
> now for the extensive mando'a lesson, i'm very sorry but i couldn't do footnotes without losing my sanity:
> 
> Osik: shit
> 
> Mandokar: the "right stuff," the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life
> 
> Aruetiise: traitors, foreigners, outsiders; in this case I'm also using a plural as a more derogatory signifier as well. why? because i can. see "Jetiise"
> 
> Fahla’ada besom: fucking asshole
> 
> Beskar’gam: armor!
> 
> Mand’alor: sole ruler
> 
> Dar’manda demagolka: a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost their heritage, and so their identity and soul/monster = Boba is a pottymouth. see above
> 
> Buir: parent/guardian. gender neutral
> 
> Hut’uun: coward (harsh)
> 
> Nayc. Ibic solus cuyir ner. Meh jetii copaanir at geroya olyaor mando, rala kaysh: No. This one is mine. If the Jedi wishes to play at being Mandalorian, let them.
> 
> Par kote: for glory. in a martial culture that _does_ have a trial by combat method of picking rulers, i think they should have some ritual words! i tend to pick whatever the motivation is, so note Obi-Wan saying it's for glory. he's talking about Vizsla, there. when you get dissed by a Jedi so subtly in your own language you don't even notice. ouch.
> 
> Jetiise verd’ika: Jedi (derogatory (maybe it's just in the Kaledavan dialect?))/young warrior. again. Obi-Wan is winning the insult game
> 
> Aliit: clan, family unit
> 
> Cin vhetin: fresh start; lit. white field
> 
> Miai: way. i had to get some mandalorian jokes in here somehow. everybody, this is the Way.
> 
> pru’ika: derivation of shadow, prudii. 'ika is a suffix that's basically translatable as a smaller/cuter version of something. pru'ika = little shadow
> 
> Ret’urcye mhi: goodbye; lit. "maybe we'll meet again," which is why Obi-Wan says the full phrase and not the common "'ret" which is closer to "bye"
> 
> K’oyacyi: lots of meanings! "Cheers!"; "Hang in there"; "Come back safely"; lit. a command; "Stay alive!" guess which one Jango means and guess which one Obi-Wan is getting out of it
> 
> Di’kute: idiot, fake plural. lit. "one who forgets to put on their pants."
> 
> forever thanks to [this beautiful site for mando'a ref](http://www.mandoa.org/)


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